One And Only
by DC Luder
Summary: Third in the Series of Three storyline. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good, the Family must face obstacles that will change each of their lives forever.
1. One And Only: I

Title: One And Only: I

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the (what is now, I guess) the Time Will Tell Series. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: PG 13

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: References made to Robin: Year One

^V^

"Moving on, is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard."

Dave Mustsaine

^V^

The door creaked quietly as it opened.

Despite the fact that my watch was in a ceramic dish on the dresser across the room and that the nightstand's clock was out of my sight, I knew it had to be at least quarter after six. Only one hour and forty minutes after falling asleep. I felt Selina shift under the covers beside me, her left hand moved off of my side as shaped fingernails gently scratched my bare skin. As if mimicking her owner, I felt Isis' claws knead the flesh of my lower leg.

After she sighed, I heard my wife whisper, "Shh, Daddy's still sleeping."

I kept my eyes closed and listened to quiet footsteps on the floor. Small feet with silver painted toenails buried within cotton slippers. I heard a quiet giggle and then felt as two tiny hands pushed down on the mattress as a pair of knees crawled up to join them. The left knee, as of yesterday, had a pink adhesive bandage on it in light of a bicycle mishap. Selina sat up in the bed and lifted the covers as our visitor slipped in between us.

"When did you wake up?" Selina asked.

"Six-oh-five," Mattie replied. I heard her snicker as one of her fingers traced a circle on my shoulder. Her mother told her to stop and she did with an exaggerated sigh. "When can I wake him up?"

"Later. He needs to sleep. You need to sleep. You've got a big day ahead of you."

"Yeah," Mattie resumed touching my shoulder. Through the material of the blanket, the pressure was almost nonexistent.

"Are you excited?"

I didn't hear a reply, but I knew Mattie was. For the last month, she had been fascinated with the fact that she was going to kindergarten. As much as I had debated, lectured, yelled and even pleaded, Selina remained completely anti-private all-girls school. However, since it was she who was going to school, we let Mattie "decide". The majority of the friends that she had met from playgroups and summer soccer were enrolled at the Bristol Elementary School. Two votes public, one vote private. When I cornered Alfred he shook his head and scurried off mumbling about dusting the displays in the armor room.

As part of an introduction program, the school had put on an open house a few days earlier. Picnic out on the football field with two dozen five-year-old's and their parents. As if it wasn't hard enough to accept the fact that my child was attending school, I had to commemorate it with the bumbling parents of tiny tyrants with dry hamburgers and noodle salad.

Selina had reminded me on several occasions that it was going to be all right and that Mattie would still love us even though the school had a new playground. I had once asked if I should have a playground installed on the rear yard and Selina had laughed before slapping my cheek gently, "Grow up."

"What time is it?" I heard Mattie ask.

"Six-twenty three."

My daughter paused and then spoke softly, "Can I?"

"Be nice about it," Selina replied as she slipped out of bed.

The tiny finger that had been doodling on my back began to poke. When I didn't respond, she whispered in my ear, "Daddy, wake up." Then harder poking. On most mornings, she would wake me around seven or so, and no matter how late I had gotten to bed, I would get up and have breakfast with her and Selina. But after a less than desirable amount of sleep, doing anything related to being awake seemed unjust.

Finally, I grumbled quietly and she took that as an invitation to jump on me, "Time to get out of bed, sleepy head!"

After letting out a breath, I rolled over on my back, allowing her to sit on my chest. She bounced a bit and then leaned forward to kiss my nose. Black curls tickled my face before I could say, "Good morning."

Before my mind could register the fact that she had wrapped her slender arms around my neck, Mattie had jumped off of the bed and dashed out of the room. After sitting up and clearing my throat, I called out after her, "No running." Mattie's padded footfalls slowed and then faded as she reached her room.

As I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed, Selina emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in my blue robe. Instead of commenting on it, I threw her a look and then went about rising to my feet.

There were two quiet pops as my knees fully extended and not even a second later, a flare of pain registered in the back of my mind. I had overdone it the night before, touring most of the city on foot by myself. Of which had been practically unnecessary in light of the quiet nights the city had been offering over the last few months. Even still, I had been restless and the rooftops kept me company.

I felt her eyes on me and gave one last stretch before walking over to her.

^V^

He looked exhausted. Another late night. He kept saying that he was overloaded with work but on a hunch, I had called Barbara and she had informed me that the city had been relatively quiet of late. Meaning that whatever thugs Batman had come across, suffered his frustration via broken wrists and abdominal contusions. Natural Bruce, when one life is stressful, relieve said stress through the other life.

I smiled at him as he stood, stretched his legs and then approached me. He touched the sleeve of the robe I wore, "This yours?"

"Nope, I stole it," I grinned.

"Thief."

"Mrrow," I mumbled before wrapping my arms around his waist. I was about to kiss him when I heard a voice clear near the doorway.

We both looked to see Alfred, trying his best to hide his embarrassment by studying the ceiling. "Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes," he spoke, glancing at us briefly. Despite the years that had passed since I had entered Wayne Manor for good, he still hadn't completely adjusted to my presence. I couldn't blame him, for decades it had been just him and Bruce. Add a woman, a child and a neurotic cat and he was bound to be twittered.

Before either of us could comment or thank him, Alfred turned on his heel and made his way down the hall. I had still been looking at the door when Bruce leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Stubble scratched my chin and I pushed him away slightly, "Better get ready. Don't want to be late for the first day of school."

Unbelievably, he rolled his eyes and stepped away towards the bathroom. Within seconds, the shower was running.

"Mom!"

I sighed and followed the call towards my daughter's room. She was on her hands and knees, with her head buried beneath her bed. "What are you doing?"

"I can't find my sneakers."

I picked up a small pillow that was on the floor and set it on the chest at the end of her bed. "They were downstairs last night, outside the door." As she continued her fruitless search for her missing foot apparel, I noticed she had yet to change into her clothes for the day. We had picked out the outfit a week earlier, made any necessary revisions and had finally decided on the perfect first day of school ensemble. Although Mattie had wanted to wear a dress, Bruce had insisted on some sort of pants. She had demanded, with the cutest pout ever, why she couldn't wear a dress.

And it was worth every jewel in the world to see him try to explain to her that little boys liked to look up the skirts and dresses that little girls wore.

Since the forecast was hot and muggy, she had picked out a pair of khaki Capri pants with a purple sleeveless button up top that tied in the front. I refolded the garments and set them on the bed as she stood, the corner of her mouth twisted. I smiled, "Hey, those waffles aren't going to eat themselves, you better get ready." She suddenly beamed with a smile and reached for the clothes. As she pulled off her socks, I asked, "Do you want me to put your hair up?"

As she shook her head, curls bobbing, she said, "No. I like it down."

"Well you get dressed, I'll get your sneakers, okay?"

"Kay," she said in reply.

Leaving her to her own devices, I returned to the bedroom to get dressed myself. Bruce, who must have showered and shaved in record time, was already at the dresser pulling on a pair of dark slacks. He then went about donning a slate blue long-sleeved shirt and tucked it in before cinching his leather belt. Before I could announce my return and update him on how Mattie was coming along, he asked, "Have you seen my shoes?"

I glanced at the closet, where eight pairs of dress shoes rested in a neat rack. He followed my gaze, "No, I bought a new pair yesterday. Wanted to break them in."

I sighed and walked over to him. "They are just shoes, my dear, I'm sure you can survive if you wear a different pair," I said while I straightened his collar. Smiling, I thought how much Mattie was her father's daughter.

He scanned the room briefly, not as determined as Mattie had been, and then selected a pair from the closet and quickly donned them. I knew he was nervous about sending her off to school and I knew there was nothing I could do to relieve it. He would never admit to it, but he was most definitely not ready for his little kitten to leave the nest. Over the last few weeks he had questioned why I wasn't as worried as he had been. The only comfort I could offer him was that I was concerned, but happy that she was going to move on. What I didn't tell him was that I was reasonable enough to know that this was kindergarten, not Harvard.

With husband and child dressed and headed downstairs, I was able to wash up and change, in peace, into a knee length black skirt and silk sleeveless blouse. After finding my shoes and putting on a gold bracelet, I went to join them for breakfast. Alfred and Mattie had several discussions on what would be her first day of school breakfast. Unlike her outfit, this important decision had been made once and had no alterations made.

Upon entering the kitchen nook, I smiled to see Mattie already eyeing a plate of blueberry waffles, stacked as a high as the Gotham County phone book. Bruce had went about making himself look preoccupied as he sipped scalding coffee, scanned the newspaper and checked his watch every minute or so. He sat to the left of his daughter, so I chose the empty chair to her right. After moving onto the society pages, Bruce looked up and offered a quick half-smile.

Thirty seconds after I had taken a seat, Alfred appeared with a glass mug of hot tea. For New Year's, I had given up coffee, and after nine months, I had only diverged a handful of times. I thanked him as he left the room as quickly as he had entered. I knew he would be busying himself instead of joining us for breakfast. After all, the child needed a lunch to take with her.

I sliced up two waffles and set them on Mattie's plate and let her pour the syrup. She proceeded to eat the small pieces as quickly as possible without drawing attention to get herself in trouble. Alfred had been fighting an uphill battle of teaching her proper etiquette while Dick and Tim proceeded to "corrupt the poor child." I offered Bruce some but he muttered, "I have coffee."

Before I could comment, Mattie spoke through a mouthful of waffle, "That's not breakfast, that's a drink."

I smiled warmly and nodded in agreement while looking at the surprised look that was plastered over Bruce's face. His lips were pressed together and he had dropped the paper on the table before looking at his child. She had returned to her meal without a second thought. I could tell he was about to say something, so I cut in, "Mattie, don't talk with food in your mouth."

She paused, swallowed and then said, "Sorry, Mom."

After three minutes of silence, Bruce took a waffle and put it on his plate.

Once I had finished my breakfast, I left for the kitchen with my empty dishes. Alfred stood at the counter and was deftly wrapping a sandwich with wax paper. When he looked up at me, I smiled warmly and approached his left side. With a quick glance, I recognized the contents of Mattie's lunch: plastic applesauce cup with re-sealable lid, roast beef sandwich, plastic thermos with one-hundred percent apple juice, two wrapped oatmeal cookies and a yogurt cup, also in a plastic re-sealable container. I was about to ask if he was planning on any fresh fruit when he reached over towards a ceramic bowl near the sink and selected a ripe plum.

Since he was busy, I decided to tend to my own duties. After rinsing out my breakfast dishes, I walked over to the side entrance that lead into the rear of the kitchen and opened the door just enough to grab Mattie's sneakers. Before returning to the nook, I moved towards one of the rear cupboards, retrieved a small bag of cat food, measured out a cup and then proceeded to evenly distribute the food in two fish shaped ceramic bowls that were set on a small plastic mat near a glass water bowl. As the pieces of kibble chimed, I made soft kissing noises and within seconds, I heard the music of paws on tile.

As Alfred proceeded to pack the contents in Mattie's purple lunch bag, I spotted Isis' sleek black form trot towards me, with the striped calico body of Taffy not far behind. As the two wrapped themselves around my ankles before moving on to their breakfast, I mused on how even though Bruce had never been an animal lover, when his daughter had asked for another cat for her birthday, he was the first to step up and search for cat breeders. With hardly any trouble, I encouraged Mattie to ask for a cat from an animal shelter or as she had told him a "kitty without a home".

Taffy had been the third cat we had looked at while visiting the Gotham County SPCA. She had light green eyes and a striped calico coat that reminded me of a harlequin. Bruce must have been on the same mind set for while Mattie played with her new cat, he had said, "She name's it Harley and it will live out side."

^V^

"We're going to be late," I moaned.

I sat on the top step outside of the front door. Just as I had been for twenty minutes. I had my backpack, my inhaler, my lunch, my snack, clean socks, and that little bottle of hand cleaner gel stuff. I seemed to be the only one ready to go. Dad was checking the car, again, making sure it had gas and windshield stuff in it. He had already done everything anyone could possibly do to the car the night before. Even filled the tires with air. I had asked if he could do my bicycle tires and he said, "Maybe later."

But he hadn't.

Mom, who was sitting next to me on the step, reached over and touched my knee, "No, we won't be late. Besides, they can't start without you."

"I hope not," I sighed before looking at my lunch bag. It was a new one, with an icepack in the bottom and was shiny on the inside so my applesauce and juice would stay nice and cold. My friend Ashley had the same one, but hers was pink and mine was purple.

Dad finally shut the hood and stopped in front of me, "You have your lunch?" I nodded and he continued, "Your inhaler? Clean socks? Sunscreen? The cell phone?"

"Daddy," I whined as best as I could. Sometimes it worked with him, but somehow I didn't think today would be my lucky day.

Before he could repeat his questions, Mom stood and said, "She is ready, my dear. Are you?"

He looked at her with the same face he gave me when I used his ties as scarves for my dolls. He then sighed and went to his side of the car and got in. Finally. As Mom got in the passenger side, I climbed up into the back seat and buckled in. Setting my bag on the floor, I sat up straight and smiled as brightly as I could. Dad always looked back at me with the mirror whenever we rode in the car. I looked at his reflection and noticed he still had a worried look on his face. So I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes.

He almost smiled.

Mom said suddenly, "Mattie."

"Sorry," I mumbled as Dad's smile grew. After a quiet giggle, I sat back and looked out the window. A second later, the car moved and I watched as we passed our house and moved down the drive. I was hardly scared about going to school, but I was kind of sad for being away from home all day. I would miss Alfred and Mom and Dad. But then again, I would be with all of my friends and Ms. Tyner and we would have an hour of recess on the playground.

As I was looking out the window, I saw a hawk over the treetops. There were a few hawks at home and when Dad took me for walks he would point them out and put me on his shoulders so I could see better. I was about to say something about it when Mom asked, "So, you start soccer this week, right?"

I nodded, "Yep," I thought back to the horse calendar in my room, "Five on Friday."

Dad said something quietly and Mom shook her head, "And you have a riding lesson on Wednesday, but we'll have to change that because that's when your games will be when they start."

"When do we find out when the first one is?" Dad asked. He liked to know when everything was happening and where. He worked a lot so I guess it helped to know when he had to take time off. Mom shrugged and I did the same.

Everyone stopped talking for a while. With the radio off, it didn't take long for me to get bored. I tapped the back of Mom's seat a few times with my foot, just soft enough so that she wouldn't feel it. When I stopped, I asked, "Was Dick coming to dinner tonight?"

Mom nodded, "Yep, and Leslie too."

"What about Barbara?" I asked.

They both paused and Dad said, "No, she's coming up later this week sometime, her father too."

I smiled at that. I loved Barbara. She helped me learn how to play games on Dad's computer. I was supposed to call her Aunt Barbara, but she said I didn't have to if I didn't want to. Her dad was fun too, I called him Uncle Jim. He had a big moustache, bigger than Alfred's.

Thinking of Alfred made my smile grow bigger. Last night, he had come in just after Mom had tucked me in. Dad was working late and Alfred came and told me he would come see me good night when he got home if it wasn't too late. I had been upset, but Alfred read me a chapter more than what Mom had and then made sure I had fresh water and a curly straw. Dad never came in, so it must have been real late when he had gotten back. But when I woke up, first thing, I ran in to wake him. It was a little earlier than normal, but I couldn't wait to see him.

The car slowed suddenly and I recognized the wide front lawn of the school. There was a row of yellow school buses and an even longer row of cars. Dad pulled into the visitor's parking lot and parked next to a blue van. After he pulled the key out and unbuckled he turned around and smiled at me, "Ready, kitten?"

I nodded and quickly unbuckled and grabbed my belongings. After I opened the door and hopped out, Mom got out as well and offered to hold my backpack. I shook my head and said, "No, I got it, Mom."

She made a noise and when I looked up at her, her smile seemed fake. I gave her one of mine and that seemed to please her.

As we met in front of the car, Dad took my free hand and led the way towards the front entrance of the school. I didn't see anyone I recognized yet, but I knew they would be there. About fifteen feet from the doors, Dad stopped and knelt in front of me. He looked upset, sort of, like he was confused and sad all at once. I looked over his shoulder and I saw my friend Katrina waving next to the door. I was about to wave when Dad reached over and touched my hand, "I want you to be very careful today. And on you best behavior. If anything happens, you know how to get a hold of me, your mother or even the house. If you need anything, call. If you want to come home early-."

Mom cleared her throat and he looked up at her. His face changed, brightening slightly, before he continued, "But have fun, okay. Enjoy that new... play ground."

"I will." Before he could get up, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around his neck, and said in his ear, "It's okay, Dad. I'll be okay."

He nodded and kissed my cheek before I let go. While he stood, I turned and hugged Mom as she said, "Have fun with the girls. Remember to ask about Ellen's birthday party, see if it's still on the eighteenth."

"Yep."

Dad had stepped to Mom's side and eyed the play ground carefully. He told me to stay out of the sand, not to run on the wooden planks or to go on the high monkey bars. Mom said to do whatever had the shortest line of people and Dick taught me how to twist the chains of the swings so that you spun really fast.

"We'll be here when you get out at two-thirty," he said.

I suddenly wondered if they were going to leave at all, or if they were going to stand on the sidewalk until school let out.

Before I could ask, the warning bell rang suddenly and Dad nodded once more and said, "Bye kitten."

"Bye Dad, bye Mom!" I waved hard and then trotted over to Katrina, who had been waiting for me. We hugged quickly and then went through the open doors. When I was about halfway through, I leaned back and saw they were still standing there, looking sad. I blew them a kiss and giggled when Dad pretended to catch it.

^V^

"No, no, no, no..." I grumbled as I glanced over the hanging erase board that charted out scheduled shifts. It had been my first chance that day to check it, seeing how I had spent most of the morning on the phone with the Assistant DA's secretary's replacement.

Next to "DII Grayson", six shifts were marked, and for Monday the fifth, instead of the eight hours I had signed on for, I was scheduled for twelve. After mumbling obscenities at the erase board, I strode down the hall to a half door that kept the rest of the precinct out of Scheduling. I rang a small buzzer and was greeted twenty-nine seconds later by a squat hairy officer named Burt Cleveland. When he recognized the scowl on my face he smirked and asked "What can I do for you, Richard the Brave?"

"You can start by telling me how my shift grew by four hours."

He took a seat on a near ancient stool and retrieved a day old newspaper. After he had opened up to the Sports section, he shrugged, "Grayson, what can I say? Your rookie is on temporary leave, you get to help pitch in to cover his hours."

Having partially known that had been the cause, I sighed heavily before turning away and walking towards the stairwell door. As I took the steps two at a time to the fifth floor, I cursed Officer Trey Richardson. He had been my "officer with aspirations for Detective placement" for less than a month and already he had used up all of my patience. Having hardly any desire to do anything, he was a piss poor student and an even lesser human being. When I had asked him why he wanted to be a cop, his reply had been that he figured girls would have all the more reason to want him.

And the city issued this moron a weapon.

After seating myself behind my desk, I engaged in a staring contest with the phone. I had distinctly asked for the reduced shift so that I could head to Gotham for dinner. Any other night it wouldn't have been that big of a deal, but this time, it was to celebrate Mattie's first day of school. And now her big brother would be in his uncomfortable desk chair instead of at the dinner table.

With one final breath, I picked up the receiver and dialed seven familiar digits. After two rings, Alfred's voice answered, "Wayne Manor."

"Good morning, Al, I take it they've left for school already?"

"Ah, a grand deduction, sir, seeing how it is now a quarter after eleven."

"I wasn't raised a dummy," I paused and let out a sigh before continuing, "Listen, Alfred, I need you to tell Bruce I can't make dinner tonight, my shift was changed over the weekend and I'll be working until ten."

I could almost imagine the look that was coming over his face. He replied, "That is quite tragic, Master Dick. However, I feel that such information should be delivered directly to him from you."

"But-."

"Richard, it is not proper to complain."

"Sorry," I mumbled in defeat, "Fine, I'll call him on the cell."

"What a splendid idea."

After hanging up, I dialed Bruce's cell and was surprised to hear Selina, "Yessum?"

I cleared my throat, "Hey, how did the munchkin do this morning?"

She laughed quietly, "She was great. She was worried about being late because you-know-who was being anal about everything. But once we got there she couldn't wait to get over to her friends. I practically had to drag him back to the car. He's called about six times, seeing if she wants to come home or if she's in the nurse's office."

As a smile formed on my lips I said, "That's pretty much how I pictured it. I remember my first day at Bristol Middle School. I wasn't even out of the car and Bruce was commenting on the athletics program and I was already eyeing skirts." I heard the clinking of silverware in the background as silence fell between us. "Lunch on the town?"

"Yeah, I even made him drive all the way to Midtown. He's been staring at his water glass for thirteen minutes. Here, I'll hand you over to him."

There was a rustle and then I heard their muffled conversation. He asked who it was and she replied, "He hails from the Haven."

"Dick," he spoke. I already knew this was going to be ugly, for his voice had that dark overcast that often arose whenever he was in a bad mood.

"Hey. Heard everything went smoothly today."

"Yes. I suppose it did."

More dish and utensil music.

"Anyway, the reason I called was that my shift was rescheduled."

"Meaning?" he inquired, his voice growing quiet.

"Meaning... that I won't be able to make dinner..."

"Can't you get it off?"

Typical CEO thinking, I thought to myself, Sure Bruce, lemme just walk right out the front door any time I want like you do at good old WE...

"No, I can't. We're understaffed as it is. You know how it goes."

He didn't speak for a full minute. I wondered if he had hung up on me and was about to let loose the air I had been holding in my chest when he said, "Fine. Whatever."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm not. It's Mattie's dinner, not mine."

And with that he did hang up.

^V^

"Almost done," I said to the small child sitting on the exam table. Her mother, a part-time waitress and full-time recovering heroin addict, stood on the other side of the table, rubbing her young daughter's back as I inserted the needle into a thin upper arm.

The child paused and then squealed in over-dramatized pain as I injected the tetanus toxoid into her blood. I deftly removed it and pressed a small wad of gauze over the tiny hole in her arm. After quickly offering a sugar free lollipop and rainbow sticker, the tears ceased and a fraction of a smile appeared.

After helping her off the exam table, she bounded towards the door, her brown pigtails bobbing in tune with the hem of her denim skirt. I then turned to the mother, who had been a patient of mine for over a decade, "Alexis will be fine, the cut was fairly small and the tetanus is just a booster. The stitches can be taken out in two weeks, just come back then and we'll see her quick."

The frail woman nodded and then strode after her daughter who had begun to wander the corridor. At the door, she half-turned and offered a tired smile, "Thank you, Leslie."

"Anytime, dear."

After cleaning off the counter and the exam table, I washed my hands and smoothed out my white coat. When I passed through the door, I shut the lights off and headed towards my office. It was finally one-thirty and time for a fifteen-minute lunch break. Time for a few blissful moments of peace and quiet.

When I opened my door and saw him wiping off my computer screen, I grinned thinking at least I would still get peace and quiet, even if it wasn't by myself.

"Alfred Pennyworth, what are you doing?"

He about faced and hid the handkerchief he had been using behind his back, "Dr. Thompkins, I was simply-."

"Submitting to your bad habits, yes, I saw that. To what do I owe the honor?" I asked after closing the door and walking towards him.

"Well, as I recall, it was you who invited me."

When I caught on, I smiled, "Ah, how the aged mind forgets. Is it Monday already?"

"It is indeed."

As he neatly folded the scrap of cloth and replaced it in his pants pocket, I eyed the brown paper bag on my desk and finally became aware of the wafting odors. Fresh honey glazed wheat bread, crisp vegetables and smoky honey ham. Without warning, I wrapped my arms around him and grinned into his neck, "What a sweetheart."

"Quite," he replied.

Eight minutes later, we were seated on a recently painted bench under the towering oak trees of Hayden Park. Every Monday for the last two years we had shared lunch there in addition to splendid conversations. He shared his worries about the Wayne family and I found ways to comfort such troubles. However, for the last four weeks, our topic had been directly focused on the problems that had risen between Dick and Barbara.

Dick had fallen under an enormous amount of stress in his work at the Department, not to mention from his nighttime career as a vigilante. Barbara, who had always desired a serious relationship with her beau, had grown to miss the times when Dick had commuted regularly between Gotham City and Bludhaven. Small fights began to surface as the young lovers quarreled ever so often.

Then small love tiffs climaxed to an all out war.

When she had asked as to what his intentions were for their future, he had blown up at her, demanding that he had was doing his best to work on his future. She had countered with her concern as to if she was a part of his so-called future. And it had all gone down hill from there.

Having watched them both grow from awkward children to less awkward adults, it was difficult for Alfred and I to see them in such fowl moods. Alfred had assigned himself the task to try and cool down Dick while I had also taken up the responsibility of keeping track of Barbara. But no matter how much we aided or pried into, both gave a similar and frightening answer.

They were over.

And since then, neither had spoke to one another or had even spoke of one another. Nightwing had not been in Gotham in nearly a month and Dick Grayson only visited under strict schedules so that he would in no form come into contact with his once true love. With their childish behavior, they had unintentionally disrupted the circle of life in Gotham. If Batman needed assistance from his protégé it was his sole responsibility to seek it out. Family dinners were never complete, for one or the other would not be present. All in all, their earthquake was sending out aftershocks, one right after the other.

"He called this morning, said he would not be able to attend dinner."

"Oh, really?" I asked before taking a sip of iced tea.

"Yes, some sort of unexpected scheduling conflict. Upon inviting him, I had listed the guests specifically so to not ward him off."

"Right, because Jim and Barbara were coming up another time."

He nodded his head and studied a pigeon as it waddled by, "Well, now I suppose they could come up tonight, seeing how Master Dick is no longer going to be in attendance."

"Awful short notice, how unlike you," I winked at him.

"A rebel to the last, Leslie."

I laughed hard and gazed over at him. Our relationship had always been solid, running nearly thirty years. We had never seriously considered marriage and I doubted that we ever would. Besides, it was much more interesting to toy with the hearts of others so to set them up for their own matrimonial bliss.

After we had eaten, chatted on how Mattie was growing, it finally came down to the one topic we had only brushed on three times in nearly two months. I ruined our sunny September lunch by asking, "How is he doing?"

Alfred sighed and looked away from me for a moment. When his gaze met mine, I saw the concern he felt for his "son", "Well. I've spoken with her, to in turn speak with him. As far as I know, she has yet to discuss the topic with him."

I nodded, my mind involuntarily reflecting back on this summer's radiographs that I had taken of Bruce's legs. He had fallen a good distance after being literally blown out of a bomb-rigged building and we both had feared a fracture. Luckily, it was nothing more severe than a hairline at the base of the femur. But the x-rays had also revealed troubling news that I had not expected. Or at least what I didn't want to expect.

News in the form of chipped cartilage in the knee joint capsules, a significant indicator of osteoarthritis.

"Well, you see him every morning, how is he moving, at least."

He shook his head, "He hides it well, but the stiffness is still evident."

"He'll never do anything about it. Until it's too late."

He drew a breath and then stood offering a hand to me. I took it and then proceeded to wrap my arm around his back. As we made our way to the exit, Alfred spoke, "Perhaps he thinks that it is already too late."

"He does have that pessimistic way about him doesn't he?"

"That he does, madam."

^V^

"Perhaps Mr. Drake could enlighten us?"

I sat up suddenly and looked up to see all fifty-eight students and the professor staring at me. As I ran my fingers through my hair, I mumbled to myself, "Way to fall asleep, Tim."

After glancing over the lecture notes on the chalkboard, I guessed, "Um, Backward Integration is more like an approach for growth where a company seeks control over its suppliers. And Backward Invention would be like a product strategy in worldwide marketing, where the uh, company produces a less intricate version of its domestic product for developing countries."

I must have been somewhat close to the discussion at hand, because the professor's pale face flushed red with anger. In the last two weeks of classes, I had already made it to the top of "students who annoy me" list. Fortunately, my grades had yet to suffer, but if I kept embarrassing him while he tried to embarrass me, I was sure my GPA would drop.

After the tweed sporting moron continued speaking to the rest of the class about marketing strategies in the global economy, the tall, lanky form of Dave Keller leaned closer to me and said, "Sweet, Timmy."

I offered a slight smile, "I almost defined Bait and Switch profiting. Good thing I changed my mind at the last second."

He laughed quietly, and since we were eight rows back, it went unheard by the professor. After glancing at my watch for the fifth time, saw that it was a quarter of four, I reasoned that there were only eight more minutes left and that I could do my best to stay conscious. It was my last class of the day, and seeing how I had started out at eight in the morning with Data Processing and Organizing, I was in need of a well-deserved break.

Bruce had left a message on my voice mail that if I was free, I was invited to dinner to honor Mattie's survival of her first day of school. I found that odd, that he had called instead of Selina but who was I to complain?

In my third year at GSU, I had somehow managed to develop the perfect schedule between school, life and Robin. As long as nothing extreme happened, I was always in bed at my private dorm room just after four in the morning. From there, I slept until eight or ten, depending on the day, and worked my way through the labyrinth of classes that made up my twenty credit semester. With only four semesters and an internship to go, I had yet to completely decide on a major. As of the moment, I was a Business Management major, minoring in Criminal Justice. Before that, I had been pre-med, pre-law, pre-anything that the school could offer me.

Needless to say, my father was this side of furious.

He had pushed for a business degree and to appease him for the time being, I had added a few management courses to the list of other random classes. Bruce was also displeased, but at least he kept it to himself instead of lecturing me everyday over the summer.

It wasn't until I noticed that my fellow classmates were beginning to rise that I realized class had been dismissed. After checking my watch, I grinned, he was letting us out four minutes early.

Before I could be asked to stay after class, Dave and I scooted out the back and headed for the rear stairwell. After traveling the two flights of stairs, we entered the lobby of Coleman Hall. Bronze mailboxes lined the walls on the left side while the right was dominated by large windows. After checking our still empty boxes, we reclined on one of the stuffed leather chairs and settled in.

It was just after I had closed my eyes that I heard "Awww, look Ashley, they're sleeping."

And then another feminine voice, "Poor little boys, school is so hard."

When I opened my eyes, I spotted the blonde head of Ashley already bending down to kiss Dave's cheek while her partner in crime, Megan, eyed me. I moved over as Ash seated herself between us, still leaving room for Megan to join us. They were both sophomores who lived a floor beneath me. For the most part, I wasn't very social on campus, mostly because I didn't have the time or energy. But it never hurt to have a little bit of Timmy Time when it could fit. I had dated Megan for two months her freshman year and it had ended as amicably as it had started. Even a year later, we were still rather close but despite her continued interest in me, I was on the bachelor beat for the time being.

"So, what are you guys up to?" Megan asked as she crossed her legs and sat into the stuffed back of the couch.

Dave shrugged, "Not much. I still have Anthro at five but other than that the day is done."

Ash smiled and winked at Megan, "Good, because we were thinking you guys could take us out to lunch."

I laughed quietly, "Take you where, the Caf?"

Ash shook her head, "Into town, that new Deli next to Robinson Park is to die for. And they so have GSU student discounts."

I stood quickly, "Hey, discount, my second favorite word."

"What's your first favorite?" Dave asked as he counted bills in his wallet.

"Um... Beer?" I managed.

Since my car was parked closest to Coleman, it was unanimously decided I was driving. I had traded up from the Civic for a black Accord with a sunroof and killer sound system. Dave rode shotgun and tinkered with the bass and radio until he settled on a local alternative rock station. I sped along the Regan Memorial Highway at 73 miles per an hour, choosing to tune into the guitar and drum solos rather than the girl chat that was going on in the back seat.

After taking the Robinson Park exit, I was stopped at a red light just before the turnoff for the park's east end entrance. I felt a set of shaped fingernails teasing my neck and let out a sly smile. Dave turned up the volume and I unconsciously began to thump my head in tune with the music.

No annoying college professors, no term papers, no inmates escaping Arkham...

Just me, the gang and some grub.

The deli had actually been pretty good. The atmosphere was super casual and had quite a bit of college kid appeal, right down to the prices. I ate a side salad and drank a bottle of iced tea and Dave asked if I was starting to be one of the girls, since Ash and Megan also had similar meals where Dave had a Triple Decker Club sandwich. I shrugged, "Well, I have to do this dinner thing tonight, and the food's going to be really good so I want to save room."

"Like a banquet or something?" he asked.

I shrugged as I chewed on a cherry tomato, "No, my neighbor back home, his daughter started school and they are big on celebrating everything she does so it's like a first day of school dinner."

Megan's face brightened, "Ah, how sweet... My parents were like that, made a big deal about everything. Is she starting kindergarten?" I nodded, and sat back in the soft padded chair. She continued, "That's nice, that they still thought of inviting you even though you're at school."

"Yeah, Timmy's a real charmer, prolly has every Granny up there on Snob Hill in his pocket," Dave snickered and eyed Ash as she took her sweater off.

We all laughed a bit, knowing his joke had been harmless. We all had come from well-to-do families and Dave himself had grandparents who lived in Bristol, not forty miles from Bruce. I gave Dave my half of the bill, which included Megan and myself, and he walked up to the desk to check out. While we waited, Ash smiled, "You should get the little girl a toy or something, seeing how it's like a party for her."

Thirty-two minutes later I was in line at a toy store, with thirty dollars worth of books, sidewalk chalk and a pair of purple leopard cat slippers that Ash had picked out. I couldn't resist, partly because Mattie and her mother shared an infatuation with the color purple and with felines. But mostly because I knew they would irritate the hell out of Bruce.

In the last few years, we had taken up an awkward relationship. Whenever my father and I were at odds, Bruce would actually take the time to listen to my frustrations. Generally it would be done while we sparred, but at least he was making the effort to help. He and Dick had a huge blow up last fall, and to the date, I still haven't the clue as to what it had been about. All I knew was that Bruce tortured himself with relentless patrols for three weeks before they ever talked to each other again.

And where Bruce had stepped in for me, I had returned the favor.

It had always seemed that I was the communicator of the group. The being of neutrality. It was rough at times, but I managed. When Dick and Bruce were at odds, I was there to do my best to smooth things out. Selina once told me that I was wasting my energy and that the two of them would reconcile when they were damned good and ready. Even still, I couldn't sit by and do nothing.

On the drive back to campus, I ignored my passengers and looked out over the city skyline. Dusk was four hours away but city lights were already visible. While I drove, I recognized familiar rooftops and alleyways, train stops and cabs. I knew the city like the back of my glove. It was my home.

I thought to myself, Then why would I want to leave?

I had acceptance letters in my dorm room from five Ivy League schools, all drooling at the prospect of me enrolling. I had a bright future in just about any field I had interest in. Most of my friends from Brentwood were spread all over the nation, excelling far beyond what I had accomplished. And yet, I was still in Gotham, living the life I had been for nearly six years.

There were only three things holding me back.

A promise I made to man who was fighting a relentless war on crime.

A green mask that was hidden in my dorm room.

And a green mask that was housed in a glass case in the caverns below Wayne Manor.

^V^


	2. One And Only: II

Title: One And Only: II  
  
Author: D C Luder  
  
Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?  
  
Rating: PG 13 for language  
  
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.  
  
Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: References made to Robin #32 and a section of Anna Sewell's "Black Beauty" is quoted.

V

"Should we bring a gift?" I asked as I looked myself over in the mirror.

Barbara was in her bedroom, probably putting on unnecessary makeup. We had been invited up for dinner up in Bristol, and although we already were set to come up later in the week, I wasn't about to pass up on another night of Alfred's fine cuisine.

She arrived in the living room a moment later, with diamond stud earrings in her lobes and a dusting of eye shadow around her emerald eyes, "Dad, the child has everything she could ever think about wanting."

"Still, it's the thought that counts."

Barbara smiled at me as she smoothed out her sweater, "Maybe we shouldn't bring anything for Mattie, but something for Bruce and Selina."

I paused before replying, "Mood stabilizers?"

After heavy prodding, I convinced her to let me drive up to Bristol. Usually whenever we were alone together, we ended up talking about what each other was up to and how things were going. But lately our time together was spent in uncomfortable silences. I was uncertain how far to prod into her relationship troubles and she was never sure as to how much to dote over my health.

Despite years of being free of smoking, several spots showed up on my lungs last spring. It was nothing too serious and cancerous tumors had been ruled out via a biopsy. But Barbara had overblown the situation and demanded I take better care of myself. Being fifty some odd years old, walking two miles everyday, eating my fruits and drinking lots of milk obviously meant nothing to her idea of being healthy.

Then again, she had been a protégé of a man who thought a nice morning jog consisted of five miles with a bag of sand on his back.

After locking up, we rode down in the elevator in near silence, with only her knuckle cracking and my soft whistling breaking the quiet air. Once on the street, I guided her towards my car, helped her into the passenger seat, stowed the chair and finally settled in myself. With the radio tuned to a classic rock station, I tapped on the steering wheel as I maneuvered off of the side streets and headed towards the larger roadways that lead the way to Bristol.

Shortly after getting in the right lane for the exit, I finally spoke, "So how are things?"

"Fine" she replied quickly. Too quickly.

"Works going good?"

"Yeah," she looked out her window and stared at the car next to us. Her tone was amiable enough but her body language was telling me otherwise.

When she had been a teenager, I had always made sure to talk to her about anything that seemed to trouble her, which was beneficial later on as it made her a very open and mature adult. Until recently, anyway.

Tired of beating around the bush, I went for it, "So, you talk to Dick recently?"

"I don't talk to him."

"Why not?" She shot me an icy glare that made me think of Poison Ivy for some reason. Not the red hair and green eyes, but the burning anger towards men that got in her way. "Well, I was just wondering what he was up to. The detective beat must fit him like a glove considering---."

"Well, if you want to know, I'd ask him yourself."

"Is he coming to dinner tonight?"

She didn't reply and I suddenly feared for the younger man's life if he was going to be in attendance. Then I figured Bruce wouldn't let her kill him or me at the dinner table. Or maybe he was mad at her for splitting up with his eldest son. Or maybe he didn't care, had more important problems of his own to deal with. As in his youngest daughter making the big step out of the house and into the world.

From my few conversations with the Wayne family over the last few weeks of summer, the introduction of school was right on schedule and it seemed as if no problems were in sight. I recalled a weekend brunch where Mattie retold every detail she could have possibly known about her tour for kindergarten. As she grew animated and began to gesture with her hands while acting out the playground obstacles, Bruce had looked over at me and asked what I thought about private, single gender schools.

I had to wipe my face with a napkin to hide my smile.

Upon pulling up the drive to Wayne Manor, I quickly checked to see the few cars that were parked out front. I was surprised to only see a black Accord and a green four door Taurus. If my aged mind served me right, they would belong to Tim Drake and Leslie Thompkins, respectively. I pulled up next to Tim's and went to help Barbara out of the car. But the second I opened her door and put her chair next to the car, she made her way out on her own and breezed by me after slamming the door shut.

Well, I thought to myself, the ride home would sure be interesting.

V

"And then we played Duck Duck Goose, but that was after lunch, and then we had a Scavenger Hunt, and we had to find all sorts of things and..."

"Sounds like a pretty busy day," I smiled warmly and reached for my water glass.

The child nodded exuberantly, her curls bobbing in tune. After she smiled over at her father, she looked back at me, "And Barbara, then we went to the library and they have all of these couches and computers..."

As she went on about the Arthur books she had found, I leaned over to Selina, "Well, looks like she survived all right."

She smiled in return and nodded toward her husband, "He barely did. Made us go to the school forty minutes early just so that we wouldn't be late. And after we met up with her, he ran in to speak with the teacher to find out how things went. When he came back out he looked upset and I wondered if something had happened. When I asked him," her smile doubled, "He complained that everything had gone perfectly and that Mattie was one of her favorite students."

I laughed quietly, but Bruce overheard and looked in our direction. After he aimed a scowl at us I shook my head and returned to my raspberry cheesecake. Alfred and Mattie had prepared it together earlier that afternoon and he had told me that she had written a message in the bottom of the crust, SMILE. I had gotten part of the S.

My father sat on my left side, and was talking to Tim about school. From the pained expression on the young man's face, I knew it had to be the last topic he had wanted to discuss. Over the summer, we had a nice talk about his future and how he seemed to be struggling over the final decision of what he wanted to do. I had been biased towards converting him back to computer science, especially since he had such natural skill and ability. He was interested in what I had to say, but when he left, I felt that he was just as confused as when he had come.

I frowned, thinking that very weekend, Dick and I had blown apart...

"Well, little lady it is after your bedtime," I heard Bruce announce. I glanced over at Mattie to see the most adorable pout ever pouted in the history of pouts. He hardened his glare and she whined quietly.

My watch face read a quarter of nine. "He's right kiddo, you have to get to bed, rest up for another day of school."

At that, her expression lightened and she looked at Selina, "Mom, can I stay up for just a little while?"

Bruce took in a quick breath, "Am I invisible?" he muttered to himself.

Selina replied after looking at Bruce, "Only long enough to say good bye to everyone. Then we've got to get you upstairs to wash up, okay?"

She tried the pout again, got nowhere and then nodded in agreement. Moments later, as everyone rose from the table, she scooted off of her chair and skipped over to me. "Barbara, guess what?"

"What, kiddo?" I asked as I reached out and touched her arm.

She leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Chicken butt," and then did her best to contain her laughter.

I grinned and leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Guess why?" She shrugged, and looked at me, as I finished, "Turkey thigh." She laughed harder and covered her mouth with both hands.

I hugged her and said, "Well you have fun this week."

"I will," she replied before kissing my cheek.

Dad stepped over and asked if I was ready to get going. When I confirmed he glanced down at Mattie and smiled as she twirled around twice before jogging over to her parents. "Well, she looks to be about the happiest kid in the world right now."

"Just about. Add a pony to her day and she probably would be," I replied while following her steps.

Bruce turned to face us just before we paused and reached out for my father's hands, "Thanks for coming up Jim, I know it was short notice."

"Ah, no problem at all. I'd rather come up here for a nice dinner than have to choke down Chinese food at the station," he smiled and cleared his throat.

Selina stepped forward after putting her hands on Mattie's shoulders, "Did you say good bye to everyone, yet?"

Mattie shook her head stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my father's legs, "Bye Uncle Jim."

"Bye sweetheart."

She then moved over and embraced Leslie, and within seconds, was back at her father's side, looking up at him with endless blue pleading eyes. He shook his head slightly and said, "I'll take her up."

Selina nodded and then watched as the two of them left the room and headed down the hall. When they were out of sight, she commented, "She's tired."

"How can you tell?" I asked. She had seemed alert enough to me. Then again, I rarely saw the child after six in the evening.

She scratched her palm before replying, "A. She didn't fuss about taking her medicine this afternoon. B. She hardly whined about going to bed. And C. I saw the look in her eye when she left just now, and I would bet anything that she conned him into carrying her up the stairs."

"I remember those days," Dad smiled warmly at me and I sighed in disgust, "Barb always had a tendency of falling asleep on the couch after dinner. And I doubted that God himself could wake her over her snoring---."

"Dad."

He shrugged and said, "Well, it's true."

Alfred, who I had failed to notice leaving the room, re-entered through the rear door. He stepped forward, a slight smile on his face and spoke, "Mrs. Wayne, you have a telephone call."

I thought it was odd that someone would call this late, but Dad didn't seem to think anything of it, "Well, we'll get out of your hair, thanks again for dinner."

Selina leaned over and kissed his cheek, "Anytime Jim. Barbara, I'll see you Thursday, right?"

I nodded. We had decided that since I had come over for dinner on Monday, that in place of our previously scheduled dinner on Thursday, we would treat ourselves to a girl's night out. When she had followed Alfred out, I studied the near empty room before I looked back at Dad, "Scared everyone out."

Tim looked up from his cake, "Nothing scares Timbo. Heart of baboon. Courage of lion."

"Brain of invertebrate," I finished for him.

He paused, then resumed eating, "Stomach of Great White Shark..."

I laughed and told him to drop by later.

Dad was quiet as we made our way through the hall towards the front entrance. Once outside, I pulled my hair back behind my ears in an attempt to keep it in place in spite of the wind that had picked up. Dad pulled the sleeves of his shirt down and looked up at the clouds.

"Do you have to go back to work tonight?"

He shook his head.

"How about some coffee, at my place. New French Vanilla I've been waiting to try out."

"Sounds great, as long as you don't fall asleep on me. Too damn old to be carrying you around."

V

As I walked up to the third floor landing, I heard Mattie's voice and splashes of water.

I found her, and Bruce, in Mattie's bathroom. We had redone it last spring, with an array of blue and green tiles, patterned with dolphin and bird decals. I smiled thinking on how Mattie wanted to paint on the walls and how Alfred had paled at the very suggestion of it. Bruce knelt beside the tub, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows and his cell phone held between his shoulder and the side of his head. Mattie had the walls of the tub plastered with bubbles and was in the process of filling the pale green washcloth with more foam.

Once I was behind Bruce, I leaned forward and pressed my legs against his back, he turned halfway, smiled and then continued speaking into the phone, "Right... No, she had a good day... Bathtub... Hardly. Well, come up Thursday then... That's fine... Fine... Bye."

He hung up and stood, "That was Dick."

"I figured as much, Sherlock." I knelt beside the tub and put a dollop of soap bubbles on my finger and blew it towards Mattie. She laughed before I could ask, "Are we almost done?"

She nodded, "I need to brush my teeth."

"Okay, how about we rinse you off, then the tub off and then we can brush our teeth," I glanced over at Bruce, who was toweling off his arms, "You want to find her some pajamas?"

He nodded, hung the towel on the rack and stepped out into the hall. When he returned, I had Mattie wrapped up in a large towel and was combing through her hair. He set her clothes on the sink counter and said, "I'm going go get some things done. You got her?"

I nodded and whispered in my daughter's ear. Still wrapped in the massive towel, she raced over and reached up for him to lift her. He did so with a smile on his face, "Good night, kitten."

"Can you read to me?" she asked, her pout in full mode.

After a sigh and glance in my direction, "You don't want Mom to?"

She shook her head, "I want you to read to me," as she poked his collarbone.

His face grew somber, "I don't remember hearing you say 'please'."

"Please please please please..."

"Hope you're not too old and deaf to have missed that, Bruce," I winked while retrieving her pajamas. He set her down and I handed them to her, "You get dressed and when you're all set come get Dad in our room, okay?" She nodded and quickly began donning her nightgown before reaching for her toothbrush.

On the way to our room, I leaned into Bruce, "So what will it be tonight? Poe? Dumas? Perhaps some Machiavelli?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he shook his head, "The same thing we read every night."

"Ah, yes Black Beauty." As we passed through the door, I flipped the switch on and he made his way over to the dresser. After setting his phone in the charger he sat on the bed and went about removing his long-sleeved shirt. He tossed it onto the floor and then looked down at his chest. I had discovered a nest of gray chest hairs amidst the black ones and although it had humored me, it seemed to have upset him.

He rose, and retrieved his robe from the bathroom before settling back down on the bed. I reclined next to him and settled on my side before reaching out and touching his arm, "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"First day of school. She survived, I survived, the school survived. You almost survived."

"Almost," he muttered before taking my hand into his. "Still can't believe it."

I shrugged and moved closer to him, "She has to grow up sometime. Might as well be now."

After shaking his head he spoke quietly, "She could have waited. At least until she was thirty."

I laughed at him and his lame humor while I wrapped my arms around his back. As soon as I pressed my lips to his jaw line, I heard Mattie trot into the room, "Ewww..."

"Ew?" I asked while sitting up.

"You're only supposed to kiss mee..." she hopped up on the bed, book in hand, "I want to read in here tonight," she paused and looked at Bruce, "Please."

He sat up as well and moved over as Mattie crawled over his lap in order to sit between us. Once settled, she opened the book to the third chapter and handed it over to her father. "We were here."

"We were?" he asked, "I thought we had gotten to where the Squire sold him already?"

She corrected him, "No, he's still learning. Like in school."

He half-smiled, "Speaking of school, why don't you read to me for a bit."

"Will you help me?" He nodded and held the book for her. She took a deep breath and then began, "'I was now beginning to grow hand... handsome... my coat had grown fine and soft, and was bright black.' Like my hair... 'I had one white foot and a pretty white star on my forehead. I was thought very hand... handsome; my master would not sell me till I was four years old; he said lads awh...' What's this one?"

"Ought," he replied.

"'Lads ought not to work like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till they were quite grown up,'." She looked up at him, "Now you read."

They took turns reading the book while I showered and changed for the evening. When I returned, Bruce was reading to a slumbering Mattie. I didn't know if he had noticed so I made a shushing noise and pointed at her. He nodded, "I know. Just kept reading so she could keep sleeping."

"What a gentleman," I replied. He went about putting the book up and proceeded to pick her up. I walked over to him and kissed his cheek, "Behave yourself."

"I shouldn't be long."

I touched the top of her head and then pressed my lips to her forehead, "Night Mattie."

As he left to put her to bed, and then to head out for his night of patrols, I reclined on the bed and reached into the drawer of the bedside table. I pulled out a notebook and pen and proceeded to flip to the first clean page. I made two column titles labeled Pro's and Con's. After a moment's thought, I began filling out the second column with negative aspects of the problem at hand.

With Mattie now off in school and Bruce ever engrossed in his work, I felt left behind. Over an afternoon tea with Alfred, we had discussed varied possibilities of what I could do to fill my now vacant time. Working in any concept of a normal job was completely unappealing and volunteer work would only satisfy me for so long. It was a combination of Alfred and my own thinking that we came up with the ultimate prospect. In my younger years, I had always dreamed of having my own wildcat refuge to provide a natural habitat for varied species of big and small cats that were abandoned or rejected from their previous owners.

And it just so happened that three hundred odd acres of mountain land were available for sale two hours out of the Gotham City limits. And it didn't hurt that my husband was a billionaire and into real estate prospects.

I had yet to propose the idea to Bruce, but even without his consent, I felt I would still carry on with it. Alfred had agreed to defend my decision no matter what my "better half decides on." He had suggested on outlining matters in further detail, so that I would better be able to explain things to Bruce. After all, if there were no facts to back the ideas up, he wouldn't be able to understand anything. Silly logical man.

"What are you writing?" Bruce's voice asked from the doorway.

I jumped involuntarily and closed the notebook, "Oh, nothing, shopping lists."

He stared for a moment longer than necessary and then said, "She's in bed. I set her alarm clock for seven, hopefully she can sleep that long... I'll see you later."

"Kay, bye."

He nodded then moved on, leaving the door open.

"Close call," I whispered to myself. Not five minutes later, Isis and Taffy made their way into the room and onto the bed in near synchronized, silent, fluid jumps. I decided that this interruption was worthwhile and reached over to rub both of their chins. Looking into their sharp green eyes, I grinned, "You two will have to visit your big brothers and sisters when they come." Isis meowed quietly and climbed into my lap as Taffy settled her furry form on my bare feet.

Feline for "I agree. Now pet me, human."

V

At two-thirty in the morning, I heard a soft tone over the comm. link, followed by Oracle's voice, "Well, what an eventful Monday evening."

I grunted quietly in reply.

I had been sitting between two gargoyles on the Northwest corner of the St. Michael's Church in the Neville borough. Aside from a handful of car chases, an attempted jumper on the Bridge and over a dozen muggings, the City had been relatively quiet. While the police handled the night-to-night gang troubles and drive-by's, I had managed to tour quickly through the city, catching the crimes that generally fell between the cracks.

Ones that never were filed or solved.

"Anyway, Cassandra called."

That piqued my interest. I stood slowly and prepared a jump line, "How is she?"

"Great. She loves Paris and Henri told her that she's a natural. Plus she's got a job at a local private dojo, helps train women in self defense."

For the last year, Cassandra had taken off on her own exploratory jaunt around the world. Although she was one of the finest young combatants I had ever encountered, her skills in detective work were sorely lagging. I had contacted a few of the greats that had schooled me years earlier and a few agreed to help instruct her and if they couldn't they would be able to find someone of equal skill to do so in their place.

For the last five weeks, she had been holding down in Paris, France, under the tutelage of Henri Ducard, a French man hunter who had not only trained my youthful mind, but had been available years later to somewhat aide us in our fight to prevent Ra's from releasing the Plague in Paris. And then currently to help improve Cassandra's skills. When I had contacted him, I had informed him of her past, how she had been raised by David Cain as an assassin and that she was still plagued from her first kill.

He had commented, "Ah, someone finally worthy of me." His unspoken words were clear though, reflecting back on his acceptance about killing and my unwavering hatred for it. Hence, our long and tested alliance over the years.

"Anyway, thought I'd let you know. I'm about ready to pack it in. Have to wake up early tomorrow, Dad and I are going out for brunch."

"Didn't get to talk to him much tonight," I replied, firing the grapple hook to an adjacent building.

She sighed, "You never do, Bruce."

Another grunted reply. Then after making the jump and landing securely on the next rooftop, I spoke, "How is he?"

Barbara took a moment to answer, "He's finally starting to show his years. All-nighters kill him during the week. Big cases or problems at the department aggravate the hell out of him. He never admits it, but I know he has to think that it's piling up against him. But I don't have to tell you that."

I nodded to myself.

"He jokes about retirement. Scares the hell out of me, personally."

Another nod as I walked toward the edge of the roof.

Before I could change the subject by signing off, she spoke, "Well, I'm off. Robin's already headed back to GSU. Go home, already, would you?"

With the city to myself, I made my way back to Rodgers and Crandall over in Midtown and unlocked the 'Mobile via the remote in my belt. Once in, I belted in and started the engine in one smooth move. As I toured the streets one last time, I found myself thinking about Jim Gordon. All of the hardships I had seen him face over our years together. The loss of two women whom he had the pleasure of calling wife. The trust and then safety of his daughter. And yet with each obstacle, he had moved on with his life.

Since the very first time I had placed the cowl over my head, he had been there. At first as my enemy and then as my friend. Imagining going into the night without him there as well seemed illogical if not impossible. He had been fired, replaced, and reinstated in his career, but no matter what his status, he had always been there. I suppose if he did step down from his position, it would not hamper the work that had to be done. But it would still make things different.

And different was rarely good.

I pulled into the Cave's entrance just after 3:30. Despite my limited activity, I showered and changed downstairs before settling in to log my work of the night. I updated a few files with some surveillance tapes I had checked in on and listed the few comments that I had.

At ten after four, Alfred appeared, dressed in a dark cotton robe and carrying a cup of coffee, "Good morning, sir. I take it our nocturnal adventures were free of tragedy?"

I nodded and thanked him as I took the steaming mug. He looked at the screen and studied the dark clothed forms as they unloaded crates from a storage building and placed them into the back of a large van. "My word, crime sitcoms have grown to be rather realistic, wouldn't you say?"

After enhancing the images and highlighting the faces of the four men, I sipped the coffee before setting it on the tabletop. With a few keystrokes, the faces were cut and organized on the side of the screen while the computer searched VICAP and arrest files for the state and city. Within seconds, each had a file located and matched up with their images.

"My word, what astounding detective work, sir," Alfred commented dryly as he took a step closer, "If only my duties could be simplified in such a manner. Shall I prepare instant coffee and microwave eggs for breakfast?" He paused, waited for a reply I refused to give him and then bid me good night.

By the time I finished my entries, I had finished the coffee and took the cup with me as I made my way upstairs. After a slight detour to drop it off in the kitchen sink, I walked up to the third floor and paused at Mattie's half-opened door. Her cat was curled in a tri-colored ball on the pillow next to her head and her blankets had managed to slip past her stomach. I pulled the covers up to her shoulders, pet Taffy's head gently and then stepped out of the room.

Selina was sound asleep, but the bedside lamps were still on. Before turning them off, I stepped into the bathroom and opened the in-wall cabinet just to the left of the mirrors. I retrieved a small white bottle of aspirin, popped two tablets into my mouth and dry swallowed them while returning the bottle to the shelf. When I woke in two hours, they would have taken full effect to dull my aches.

I thought back to Barbara's words from earlier. How her father was starting to show his years. I thought dryly, You aren't the only one Jim.

I abandoned my robe and slipped into bed, setting a hand on Selina's side as I settled beneath the covers. Isis, who had been keeping my pillow warm, rose, stretched and then circled the bed towards my feet before lying back down to sleep. Selina also stirred as she sighed, rolled over and moved closer to me, just as we had before I had left for the night. She mumbled something incoherent and I smiled. She could complain all she wanted about my snoring. But at least I didn't talk in my sleep.

I had just about drifted off into sleep when I heard the door open. When I looked over, I saw Mattie, stuffed horse in hand, looking back at me. I suddenly wondered if I had inadvertently woken her and before I could ask, she said, "I had a bad dream."

After rolling over, I held my arms out as she crawled up to me. She went to move between Selina and I but I kept her towards the edge of the bed. Partly because I didn't want her to wake her mother but mostly so that I could put her back to bed once she fell asleep. Selina discouraged letting her sleep in our bed, I much preferred having her with me than apart.

"Mom's sleeping, Mattie. Why don't you stay on this side?"

She nodded slowly as she wrapped her arms around my neck. As I pulled the covers over her I asked her what she had dreamt about. After a few sniffles and a big sigh, she mumbled into my shirt, so that it was difficult to make out what she was saying. I asked her to speak up and she did, "He was trying to hurt you and I had to stop him and---."

I cut her off, "Who was trying to hurt me?"

"The purple man. He was smiling..."

I took a deep breath as I rubbed her back gently, "Well, no one's trying to hurt me, okay? And no one's going to hurt you either."

As she nodded, Mattie pressed her face into my neck, "He was laughing... And trying to hurt you and I was so scared... Didn't know what to do..."

Tears that had been welling in her blue eyes finally pooled over and spilled down her cheeks. I felt them drop on me and dampen my shirt. Selina moved from behind me and touched my back with her fingers. I looked over my shoulder to see her wide awake, "Bad dream?"

I nodded, "I'll put her back shortly---."

She shook her head and patted the spot between us, "No, let her stay for a while, I can put her back. You need to sleep." After I positioned our daughter between us, her tears had faded and her sniffling had quieted. Selina kissed her cheek and told her everything was okay.

Nearly an hour later, both had fallen asleep. Mattie had her hand clamped on my wrist and her other latched onto her mother's thumb. Isis had nested on the other half of my pillow and purred quietly while Taffy had come into the room and settled at Mattie's feet. Selina had stretched her free hand across our daughter's body and had placed it on my side, and as she slept, I had done the same to her.

At that very moment, everything was okay.

V

A short chapter yes, but a long one is on the way.


	3. One And Only: III

Title: One And Only: III  
  
Author: D C Luder  
  
Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?  
  
Rating: PG 13 for language  
  
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.  
  
Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Selina's "One in six billion" comment is from Fox Mulder in The X-Files (who says it to his true love Dana Scully.... shippy sigh)

V

After seating myself at my cluttered desk, fifteen minutes late and running on zero sleep, I finally managed to pull off the plastic cover of my coffee cup and indulge in Caramel Delight caffeine. Within six sips, the thirty-two-ounce cup was empty and I tossed it at the garbage can that sat overflowing fifteen feet away. Luckily, it landed on the top and did not teeter once.

"Hey Grayson, you work last night?"

I looked up to see Frank Hardy, a fourteen year veteran of the BPD and also the man who was responsible for getting me from the second floor and up with the Detectives "where I belonged." We had worked a few cases together back when I first made sergeant and he said he knew right away I was meant for more.

Today, he looked fairly casual in dark blue jeans and a firm fitting blue polo that did little to hide his beer belly. Most of the detectives were far from their peak physical status and it was all that they could do to survive the bi-yearly physical exams. I was one of the youngest, fittest and fiercest, so I had taken on a variety of nicknames ranging from Richard the Brave to Detective Run 'Em Down.

I looked up at Hardy and shook my head, "Nah, neighbors had some sort of all night party, didn't quiet down until four this morning." White lie. There had been an eight-year-old's slumber party down the hall from me but I had been too busy with never-ending patrols to have been bothered by their giggling and Truth-or-Daring.

"Too bad. From the way you look, no ladies will be swooning over you today. Poor guy," he chuckled as he walked passed me to his own over piled desk.

While awaiting the arrival of Trey, I began the far long put off task of putting my files away. My current caseload had been enormous, but thankfully, pleased with a near one hundred percent solve rate. Bar fights turned lethal, shootouts in the projects, and even an eighty-two year old man who had snuffed out his wife in order to use her social security checks to buy beer. The usual suspects, the usual hassles and then the usual confessions. No elaborate mysteries, people were just stupid.

At ten after eight, Trey Richardson passed through the high entrance of the Detective wing and aimed himself in my direction. I had managed to clear most of my desk and even had time to complete a few reports that had been left over from my last shift. He had the nerve to smile at me as he sat on the corner of my desk, "So, Richie, what are we going to face today?"

"Richie" was his self-proclaimed name for me, seeing how saying "Dick" made him blush.

Again, people were just stupid.

"Well, you get to type up the follow up interviews that you never did before you went on leave, then you get to type up the ones that I had to take while you were on leave and I'm sure I could find some other guys around here that could unload a few of their own follow up interviews for you to type up, as well."

"Whoa," he held his hands up, "Why the feist?"

"Excuse me?"

"The feist. The hostility. Honestly, I don't see how it's my fault that I had to go visit my---."

Hardy passed by and interrupted, "Yeah yeah, your sick, dying mother/brother/pet dog/aunt/cousin. We get the picture rookie, now just type the damned things."

Trey pushed himself off of my desk and turned to face Hardy. At six-five and two hundred and thirty pounds, Hardy made an impressive Goliath next to Trey's five-six and one-sixty-two. He opened his mouth and pointed up at Hardy, then bit his lip and turned back to me, "Say, how about I type up those interviews?"

"That a boy, Trey, I think you're finally getting this."

With him off at his laptop, which was set up on a card table by the windows, I sighed in peace. I contemplated laying on my nearly cleaned off desk for an hour of naptime. Just as I began to loosen my tie, the phone rang and after two rings, I reached over and picked it up, "Detective Grayson."

"Wasn't that formal."

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't count the times that she called me, or that I called her, just so that we could hear each other's voices. Or the nights that I spent with her voice right in my ear, either when she had been alongside me or through the comm. link. My last count, it had been over a month since I had heard her real voice, and not the one that nagged me in my dreams.

"Barbara," I managed.

"Why are you whispering?" she asked. I could detect no uncertainty or apprehension in her tone. Same old Barbara.

"Uh," I cleared my throat and spoke louder, "Well, I wasn't expecting you." What was with me and the fibbing this morning?

"Who were you?"

"Who was I what?"

She sighed, "Who were you expecting?"

I probably could have blurted out any random name, but I had drawn a blank and only could say, "Well, someone who wasn't you."

"Well, that sure narrows down the list. Listen, Dick, we need to talk, and not over the phone."

"Fine."

"I have plans tonight, how about tomorrow?"

I mentally pictured my schedule for the week. I had plans that night as well, as in heading up to Gotham for a night of Mattie spoiling. Friday was my one clear day of the week, no work, no plans, no nothing. I had planned on sleeping and eating all day, maybe doing a load of wash or something helpful in the upkeep of my apartment.

After a moment, I said, "Tomorrow it is."

V

At half past ten, I met with Ms. Selina in the library for last minute preparations and reassurances.

She and I had somewhat been collaborating over this current project, leaving Master Bruce in the dark, so to speak. I thought it was a grand idea, a way that she could not only spread her wings but to also do good in a field that she cherished so. And seeing how her husband had a negative reaction to anything he had not been initially involved with, I thought it best to side with her.

For the occasion, she had dressed in a long, black silk dress, her mass of hair pinned up expertly and just the faintest dashes of cosmetics. When I entered, she was seated at the broad varnished oak desk, reviewing the various documents she had prepared within the last few days. While he had been away at work, she had taken the opportunity to slave away at her cause in order to be able to face him head on.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence and when she looked up at me, I could not detect any resignation or worry in her fine features. Then again, she had never feared Master Bruce's strong character. If anything, she used it against him.

"Are we ready?" I asked quietly.

She stood, gathered her papers and after putting them in a purple folder, walked up to me and kissed my cheek, "I am now."

She walked briskly, taking long strides and moving quickly. I had already brought the car out front and everything in the house had been tended to for the next few hours. It was difficult to keep up with her, but at the main door, as she pulled open the coat closet, I finally caught up, "Allow me, madam." As I offered my hand, she proceeded to hand over the file.

She retrieved the coat and donned it herself. Once settled, she took it back and smiled at me. "Let's do it."

The drive from Bristol to Midtown was quiet and the traffic was slight. She sat beside me in the front seat, finalizing the order of her papers and charts and reading over each one carefully. I knew she had already memorized each and every fact, but it seemed to comfort her to know the words were there for her.

As we approached the security booth that was at the entrance of the parking area, a tall, curly haired man stepped out and motioned for me to stop. He recognized myself, Ms. Selina and the vehicle and a grin broke out on his face, "Mr. Pennyworth, Mrs. Wayne. If you want you can pull into the VIP parking, just to left of those trees."

I nodded and then proceeded to guide the vehicle in the mentioned direction. Once parked, I stepped out and proceeded to the passenger side and almost moved quickly enough to open the door. Almost. She stepped out, smoothed her coat and then pressed the door shut.

She faced me suddenly and spoke quietly, "Alfred, you don't have to do this, if you don't want to. I mean, I know he thinks that your loyalty lies with him---."

"And it does," I commented.

"Right, but I don't want him to be upset at you, just because you sided with me."

"I've been under his wrath many a time before, Selina, this will be no different."

After passing through the glass doors emblazoned with the all too familiar WE logo, we made our way to the private elevator that was at the end of a row of elevators. I produced the necessary key, inserted it and then depressed the button that called upon the car. The ride up was quiet, but not uncomfortable. When the gilded doors opened, she stepped out confidently and I walked just to the left of her.

The reception lobby was near bare of people. Thursdays were rarely busy in the morning, and I had called ahead to be sure that he had no scheduled appointments before noon. His executive assistant, a lovely young woman named Melinda, grinned as she spotted us, "What a surprise, Selina. Do you want me to call him?"

She leaned over the desk and whispered in the woman's ear. They both laughed quietly and Ms. Selina looked back and winked at me. As Melinda depressed the speaker button on the phone, Ms. Selina removed her coat and handed it off to another assistant. I had not worn one over my two-piece suit and I nodded at the young woman as she paused next to me.

It was then I heard Melinda ask, "Mr. Wayne?"

There was a pause and then his voice replied, "Yes?"

She continued as we approached the doors, "Your eleven 'o clock environmentalist appointment is here."

"My eleven what?"

Before he could find out in the conventional form, Ms. Selina pushed the doors opened and stepped inside. I passed through as well and closed the doors behind me. He was standing beside his desk, his suit coat off revealing a slate blue shirt, dark gray tie and his dark slacks. He hung up the phone and turned to see his guests with a look of confusion, "What's going on, did something happen at school?"

"Keep your shirt on," Ms. Selina stated as she walked over to him, "This is just what Melinda said. An appointment with a environmentalist."

"I don't get it," he looked at me, "What are you doing here?"

"Sir, I would listen to what your wife has to say."

He seated himself on his desk and looked at her once more, "I'm listening, but no one is telling me anything."

Ms. Selina looked back at me and I stepped forward and seated myself in one of three leather chairs. She did the same and cleared her throat before speaking, "Bruce, I want you to take this seriously---."

He interrupted, a bad habit of his when he was upset, "Take what seriously?" She threw him an icy glare and his expression calmed, "Fine, I'm listening."

"In light of our daughter's enrollment in school, I now have a large amount of time available to me to spend any way I please. And thinking about this has given me two options. I could waste your money on shoes and vacations or whatever, or I invest your money in something worthwhile and important to me."

He was about to open his mouth but she stood and shook her head while holding a finger up at him. He closed it and resumed listening to his wife.

"I have been scanning the real estate journals that you subscribe to and I have come across a three hundred and ten acre plot of forest rich mountainside with a natural spring which runs down to an expanse of lake that is included in the acreage. With an abundant amount of natural wildlife in addition to natural shelter and terrain, it is a prime site for a wild cat conservation."

"Wild cats?" he asked.

I spoke up, "Varied large and small species, sir."

"How large is large?" he asked.

Ms. Selina spoke up, "Very large."

She offered him a twenty page plan that I had the liberty of reading over the night before. Her information and detail had been uncanny and something that would surely be able answer any and all concerns that Master Bruce would be able to produce.

"This outlines all aspects of the conservation, from certification with the US Department of Agriculture through training the staff. There are also preliminary designs of the facilities to house the cats, including fencing perimeters and medical facilities. In the back, you'll find a list and descriptions of the varied species that would be accepted into the program and their individual needs."

He took the hefty document and scanned it, turning the pages in a slow, calculated manner. The look on his face was one that I had seen many times as he scanned criminal files in the Cave. When Master Bruce closed the file, he looked up, "And how much is being asked by the Wayne Foundation to sponsor this project?"

"The current estimate is $3.3 million dollars. From there, annual contributions of $500,000 would be necessary to pay the staff, purchase supplies and to maintain the facilities."

His eyebrows barely arched as he spoke, "Lot of zeros."

"Hell of a lot more of them in your check book, last I looked, sweetie."

Master Bruce hesitated, then smiled, "True." He returned to skimming through the document and once he had read through it once more, he looked over at me, "How long have you known about this?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, sir."

Uncharacteristically, he smiled once more. He set the file on his desk and stood. I did the same and stepped beside Ms. Selina. The three of us stood in silence as he contemplated. I had feared the worst and I felt Selina had as well.

He offered her his hand and nodded, "Mrs. Wayne, I accept your proposal."

She took it, shook it briefly and then leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his back, "Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

V

I had been halfway through the introductory paragraph on my Business Ethics thesis when I heard playful screams come down the hall. Shortly after, two sets of footsteps ran by with more squeals and yells. I leaned back on my chair and glanced a look out my opened door. It seemed that there was some sort fun activity that I was missing.

Water gun fight.

I saved what I had typed, all three sentences, before standing and walking over to the door. Hanging onto the door jam, I let my head peer out into the hall just in time to see two short and tank top clad girls chasing each other with toy water guns. One of them was Stacy Kirsch, a native Gothamite who was currently the head cheerleader of our football squad. I didn't recognize the second one, but she had all the makings of a cheer girl. And both of them had wet white tank tops.

I shut the door and returned to my chair, muttering, "Never time for love, wonder boy."

Upon seating myself at the computer, I noticed a blinking indicator at the bottom of the screen. I clicked on it and smiled to see Barbara had instant messaged me, OraBG99: Tim, you there?

I replied quickly, JediTimmy: yep.

OraBG99: Were you going up to the family dinner tonight?

JediTimmy: no, went on monday, didn't know there was another one

OraBG99: Yeah, he's going up tonight, since I went up on Monday.

There was no need to discern who "he" was.

As if on cue, another message box appeared, this one from the man himself, XxDetective007xX: TIMMY! : )

I told Barbara I had to get going and she said she did as well, for she had to get some errands done. I closed the box after promising her to drop by later. She had a new spreadsheet program I wanted to try out for my Data Processing class.

With that out of the way, I typed back to Dick, JediTimmy: aren't u supposed to be at work?

XxDetective007xX: I am, just taking a break from being useful. Aren't you supposed to be in class?

I shook my head as I typed: class? I'm in college, bro, no one goes to class

XxDetective007xX: LOL, yeah, those pillows need company. Listen, are you coming to dinner tonight?

Feinging innoncence, I replied that the same thing that I had told Barbara. He took a minute to reply: Well, listen, if you're free, come up. I don't want to be the only one there besides Bruce, Selina, Alfred and the ankle biter. Besides, I haven't beaten you up in like three weeks.

JediTimmy: try 4, haven't been in gotham in over a month

XxDetective007xX: Tomato, tomahtoe. So will you come?

I told him I would do my best to get up there, but I had an evening class that didn't get out until eight, so if not at dinner, I would definitely see him on the rooftop of the Denmar Apartment building at ten sharp on Saturday. He agreed, and told me that he wouldn't open the can of whoop ass until I got there.

After the pleasant interruption, I returned to my work in hope of actually finishing the first paragraph of my paper. One sentence short, my cell phone chirped out the chorus of Outkast's "Hey Ya" and I leapt up quickly to retrieve it from the charger, "Tim here."

"Hi, it's Selina."

"Oh, hey." It had been the second to last person I suspected to call, Bruce being the last. I grinned, already knowing what she was going to say.

"Listen, we're having another dinner up here at the house if you're free."

"Wow, didn't know. Um, I have a late class, maybe I can make it up for some dessert."

She paused, "That would be great, it's another Alfred and Mattie concoction. I think it's lemon meringue."

"Yum. I'll do my best to get up there."

"All right, we'll see you then."

I hung and said to myself, "Aren't I the popular one."

That was when I realized that Jeff Parker, the guy who lived in the room next to mine, was in my room. He laughed out loud, "You won't be popular if you keep talking to yourself, pal. I'm going to grab some lunch, you free?"

I looked back at my nearly blank Word document and then over at Jeff's relaxed form. He was a fellow Brentwood graduate, although to look at him jock would be anyone's first impression, not future anthropologist. He was nearly as tall as Bruce and just about as fit, too. And with his wavy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, he was the typical poster boy for an All American College Football QB. In four years, he would have his doctorate and would be a professor of Mediterranean Culture.

If only I was that motivated.

Or tall.

After putting up an Away Message, "Foodage with Jeff", I grabbed my keys and followed him out of my room.

V

"Dad!" I waved as I ran out of the front doors. He was standing a little ways down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot. Mom was with him as well and when I called out her name, she waved and smiled.

She was talking on her phone, but when I ran up to hug her, she spoke to me, "Hi sweetie, how was today?"

"Great! We're going on a field trip to the zoo in October!"

Dad's eyes widened but Mom smiled, "That sounds like fun." And then she returned to her phone, "Listen, I have to go, I'll call before I come down tonight... Bye."

We walked towards the car as a group and I reached up and took each of their hands. Dad asked if I wanted him to carry my backpack but I told him I had it. Once we were in the car and we all had buckled in, Dad backed out of the lot and turned onto the road. After a second, he looked back at me, "So anything happen today?"

I shook my head, "Didn't need my puffer once. And we played kickball during lunch. I made it to third base, Dad. Then Peter caught the ball and my team was out. I almost made it home."

"Almost," he replied. He then turned to Mom, "So when are you heading out for tonight?"

"Where are you going, Mom?" I asked.

She looked back at me before answering me first, then Dad, "I'm going to visit Barbara tonight at her house, and I'll be leaving around eight."

"Will you tuck me in before you go?"

She nodded, "Of course I will."

Her and Dad started talking quietly and turned the radio on a bit so I couldn't hear them well. They did this when they talked about things I wasn't supposed to know about. Grown up things, they called them. I leaned as far as my seat belt would allow, and only could hear a bit about cats and projects. Whatever that meant.

When I sat back, I took out my lunch pail and found my water bottle. After taking a sip, I went to put the cap back on, dropped it and said, "Uh oh."

Dad looked back, "What happened?"

"I dropped the cap."

Mom leaned back and picked up for me, still talking to Dad, "And that way, everyone can have the same benefits."

Boring.

Luckily, we were a few minutes from home, and then I could go see Alfred and the cats and all of my stuff. Alfred said I could help him make dessert again after I put my school things away, just like I had on Monday. Dick was supposed to come to dinner and I couldn't wait to see him. It seemed like forever ago was the last time he came to visit. Dad said he was working really hard at the police station and that he was teaching another officer how to be a detective like Dick. I asked him once if he was like Dick Tracy and he had laughed, saying he wished he were, so that he could wear the yellow hat and coat without getting picked on.

Dad let Mom and I out in front of the house and then went about putting the car away. Holding Mom's hand, I looked at the dress she was wearing. When she had dropped me off at school, she was wearing jeans and a sweater, but now she looked really pretty and I told her so.

"Thank you, Mattie. I visited Dad today at work and we went to lunch," she explained.

I loved going to see Dad at work. He had such a big office and comfy couches. In one of his des drawers, he kept toys and coloring books just for when I came with him. But now that I had to go to school, I probably wouldn't go see him too often.

Alfred was in the kitchen when I walked through the hall, I called out his name and waved and told him I would be right back. He nodded and said, "I'll wait for your return, Miss Mattie."

I ran down the hall towards the stairs, my backpack flopping against my back, and then dashed up the stairs as quickly as possible. We were going to make lemon meringue, one of Dad's favorites and mine too. Although Alfred wouldn't let me cook big meals, he was always glad to have my help making desserts.

It was just as I reached the third floor that I began to feel it. The bad feeling in my chest. It always felt like there was something pressing down on me so I couldn't breathe. Sometimes it wasn't bad and I could catch my breath on my own, breathing deep and slow like Dad taught me. I tried that as I stopped on the landing, but it didn't work. My breaths came shorter and shorter and I could hear the wheezy noises start.

I called out as loud as I could, but I don't think anyone heard me because it wasn't very loud.

I stopped moving and sat down on the floor, my arms wrapped around my tummy because it was starting to hurt as well. I kept trying to slow my breathing but it didn't work. I tried to reach for my puffer in my backpack but I couldn't move.

"Daddy!" I called out again.

I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. He was moving quickly but he wasn't running. When he saw me sitting on the floor, he was still on the stairs, "Did you trip, Mattie?"

I shook my head as he approached. When he heard me breathing, he swore, something he rarely did, and knelt behind me on the floor, "Mattie, deep breaths, okay, deep breaths, where's your inhaler?"

I managed to cough and say at the same time, "Pocket."

He unzipped it and quickly found it. "Okay," he said quietly as he took the cover off of the mouth piece, "One, two, three, go," he held the puffer up to my lips and as he pressed down, I felt the air shoot in my mouth and did my best to breathe it all in. He took it away, shook it a bit and then held it back to my mouth, "One more time, one, two, three, go."

When he was done, he took my backpack off and held me up right against his chest. Mom always got really nervous when I had an attack, but Dad always stayed really calm and focused. He rubbed my back gradually and kept telling me to breathe slowly. The tightness in my chest faded and after a few minutes, I could take slow, deep breaths.

I had been trying to hold back my tears, for I got scared just like Mom did. Dad turned me to face him and wiped them from my eyes, "It's okay. Everything's okay. What happened?"

"I," I paused to take another breath, "I was going up the stairs and I started to feel sick."

He frowned a bit, "Were you running?"

I nodded slowly. I was supposed to walk up stairs and hills and never run up them. Now that I realized it was my fault that I got sick, I started to cry. He picked my bag and me up and carried me to my room. After setting me on the bed he knelt in front of me, "Mattie, that's why you're told to walk up the stairs, I'm not being mean by making you do so, I just don't want you to get sick. Do you understand?"

After I nodded to him and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, he stood and kissed my forehead, "I'm going to get you some water, sit right here, okay?"

While he was gone, I got up and got a tissue out of the box on my dresser. I wiped my eyes some more, blew my nose, then threw it away. By the time he came back, I was back on the bed, looking down at my feet. He gave me the glass of water and told me to take little sips. While I did, he untied my sneakers and took them off.

When he put them away under my bed, he said, "Why don't you sit up here for a bit, okay. I'm going to get changed and then we can go back downstairs."

"Kay, Dad."

He stepped out into the hall, and even though I still felt sick, I got up and walked after him. When he noticed me following him, he stopped and turned around, "What's wrong Mattie?"

I reached up and he lifted me into his arms. I hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and then slipped back down to the floor. I knew he was staring at me as I walked back into my room. It was funny, the little things that it took to surprise him.

V

I was just outside of the den when Bruce came down the stairs, with Mattie in his arms. He had changed into jeans and a turtleneck and she looked as if she had been sleeping. They had been gone a total of twenty minutes and I feared something had gone on. I walked towards them and asked, "What happened?"

He set his daughter down and told her to go check in with Alfred. After she walked away towards the kitchen he stepped pass me and into the den. Once he had seated himself on the largest of the three couches, he spoke, "She was running up the stairs, had a slight attack."

"She okay?"

He nodded and motioned for me to sit with him, "She'll be fine. But she's worn out. Long day at school and a few minutes of not breathing will drain any kid."

I glared at him icily and he smiled slightly. I didn't approve of making light of her illness, especially when she had an attack. Finally, I sat down and looked over at him. When I sighed, he set his arm across my shoulders. Then, after a moment of silence I asked him, "So you really approve of me doing this? The reserve?"

"Well," he began, "The way I see it, I also have two options, just as you had. I can approve of this project and allow you to put your efforts and skills into something useful..." he trailed off and a leery smile formed on his lips.

"Or you could..." I began.

"Or, I could have to go back to the days where you wore purple leather and put your efforts and skills into something illegal."

I gasped at his boldness and then pushed away from him. He laughed quietly and ended up pulling me closer to him. In detest, I snapped at him, "That's not even funny!"

"I think it is."

"Well no one in here cares what you think."

"I do," he defended himself.

After a moment, we settled and I spoke again, "You'll have to come up once in a while, meet all of the cats."

"I think I'll stick to Isis and Taffy. Much smaller. Safer. Prefer Kitty Chow compared to my flesh."

"Oh, come on, big cats are sweethearts, you just have no affinity for animals."

"Not for ones that could eat me in the three bites."

"Speaking of eating, I called Tim. He said he would try to make it here for dinner," I said as I folded Bruce's collar over on itself. How he could wear turtlenecks in such warm weather was beyond me.

After he brushed my hand away he nodded and mumbled something that might have been a positive acknowledgement. It's been rather interesting, seeing Bruce and Tim's relationship develop over the last few years. Although Bruce has never taken on the role of a parent for Tim, in recent times he has stepped in to be a rather influential "adult figure" in the young man's life. Especially since his father was constantly nagging him about the ominous future. He was twenty years old, had the rest of his life to live and Drake Senior could do nothing but try and get him to the grindstone of business as soon as possible.

I recalled a few years earlier where I had convinced Bruce to talk to Tim about the boy's sudden obsession with perfection. It had been shortly after Bruce and I had been in the car accident and just a few weeks shy of our wedding. Tim had been over-stressing himself, trying to reach an unattainable goal of perfecting his form in a ridiculous time constraint that he himself had assigned. He felt as if he wasn't good enough for his role and with more pressure on his shoulders in Bruce's absence, I knew it wouldn't be long before Tim caved in exhaustion.

Whatever Bruce had told him down in the Cave that afternoon four years ago did the trick. He seemed to change overnight, returning to the carefree Tim we all loved and missed.

Occasionally, Bruce could actually fix something without being in Bat-mode.

I leaned over and kissed Bruce on the lips and he sat back in surprise. As he kissed back I heard a male voice snickering by the door, "Bruce and Selina sitting in a tree..."

And then Mattie's angelic voice, "K I S S I N G..."

After emitting a growl that even set Bruce aback, I looked towards the door to see Dick with Mattie on his shoulders. He was still dressed from work, wearing a dark blue suit, faded gray button up shirt with a black and blue striped tie. I could see the faintest hint of his leather gun holster beneath his coat from my seat on the couch and I knew Bruce could as well.

"Hey stranger, long time no see," I managed while turning myself around and pressing my back into Bruce's chest. Dick walked in, my daughter still on his shoulders, and seated himself on the sofa, "Hey, man's got to pay the rent."

"On the apartment building that you own," Bruce muttered.

Dick smirked, "I heard that."

Mattie bounced on his shoulders and then squirmed off of him, over his head and onto his lap. His hands found her sides and tickled them until she squealed. In light of the trouble she had already had that evening I spoke with the faintest overcast of sternness in my voice, "Mattie, Alfred still needs help. Why don't you go back in the kitchen?"

Dick took the hint and released her so that she could hop off of his lap and head back to her culinary job. "Sorry, I try not to rile her up too much, it just sort of happens."

Bruce was quick to inform him about the attack she had less than an hour ago and his face grew somber. After a moment he brightened and asked how she had been doing in school.

"Excellent," I answered, "We found out today that she's going to the zoo for a field trip."

Dick laughed, "Hey Bruce, you should go as a parent chaperone, seeing how you, uh, never had 'time' when I was younger."

I couldn't help but smile. Picturing Bruce corralling children all over the Gotham Zoo seemed too good to be true. I turned my head to face him and said, "Actually, that sounds like a good idea, don't you think?"

His face was rather serious and his brow was furled as he pointed to himself, "I was the brains of the dynamic duo," and then at his son, "Dick was character relief."

Dick and I erupted in laughter and Bruce didn't even crack a smile. I loved his bland humor, it was so twisted and yet cute all at once.

He was certainly my one in six billion.

V

"How is it that every single time Alfred makes lemon meringue, we get called out to the city?" Robin growled.

With one hard look, he gulped air and went pale and quiet at the same time.

Tim had arrived at the Manor just in time to drive passed Dick as he left for Bludhaven, to watch Alfred bring out the dessert tray and to see the Bat Signal sear the night sky.

Without dessert, we had changed and headed for downtown to meet with Gordon. After a quick rooftop discussion, it was discovered that former GSU professor Jonathan Crane, AKA The Scarecrow, had gone missing for nearly a week from the parole program he had been enrolled in. Arkham had taken on a softer look over the last year and a half and was now more concerned with rehabilitating the criminally insane rather than keeping them in their cells. Not that containing them had been a priority beforehand...

"So where to?" he asked as we stood poised on the Hart Tower's rooftop.

I looked away form him and then contacted Oracle, "Where was Crane living?"

She and Selina had just commenced their night together and I was rather unpopular amongst the two women at the moment. Barbara took a moment before replying, "The new apartment complex on Rondoma Heights. Turns out they were first built in order to provide a home for recently released convicts and parolees. A nice gesture, but it still wasn't a very bright idea to pile criminals on top of each other in one-bedroom bungalows."

I assigned Robin the task of working on patrols so that I could take a look at Crane's apartment. He agreed readily and said that after a quick stop to pick something up at the Clocktower, he would get on it.

After we departed, I made my way back to the Batmobile and pulled up the digital map on the LED screen. Rondoma Heights was a fairly seedy section in the East End and it would be a good twenty-minute drive. On the way, I set the car on auto and proceeded to pull up a few basic files on Crane. As they came up on the screen, I retrieved the small container of antidotes from beneath my seat and selected two vials of injection serum in addition to an inhaler. The latter was less effective but easiest to administer, to innocents or myself.

I parked three blocks up in a narrow alley lined with empty cardboard boxes and litter. There were few buildings to seek cover from and I had to time crossing the last street carefully to avoid being seen. Once in the cover of a cluster of large pines, I faded into the darkness, traveling along the fence line until I came to the second building. Crane had a second floor unit, it's windows facing east. I perched on an empty dumpster, leapt up to his small, rickety terrace and then snuck inside. No alarm.

Criminals fearless of others breaking in on them.

With my night lenses, I scanned the small living room/kitchen and saw pretty much what I had suspected. Towering stacks of unorganized psych journals, empty food containers and a single thrift store couch facing a fourteen-inch screen TV on a upside down plastic milk crate. A narrow hallway lined with mildew-covered walls lead the way to a closet sized bathroom and a cell-like bedroom. Mattress laying directly on the floor, single pillow and thin blanket.

His closet was small, but packed with laboratory materials. Countless boxes of Erlenmeyer flasks, test tubes and jars of sealed distilled water. No matter how low he had gotten, his never-ending thirst for research was still well supplied for. On the top shelf of the closet, there were several metal briefcases stacked, three across and three high. I reached for one, opened it and allowed myself a quiet, "Hmm," at the sight of over $100,000 in cash. Close to a million dollars if each case had money in it.

And knowing the doctor of fear as I did, he wouldn't have skipped town with out his cash. And at the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway, I knew I had been right.

After about-facing, I saw a faint shadow cross the floor. A tall lanky form, with gangly arms and legs. The darkness of the room cloaked me well, and Crane didn't even know I was in the room with him until I reached out a touched his arm.

He cried out as he flailed backwards, tripped over his own two feet and landed on the floor, hitting the back of his head on a small, wooden dresser. "Heavens sake!" he cried out, reaching behind his back in order to push himself up. When he looked up at me, his dark eyes widened with fear, "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"You broke parole, Crane."

"I-I had to go out of town."

I stepped forward and I noticed his knees were shaking. "A direct violation of your parole. I'd hate to have to inform Dr. Arkham of your inability to keep up with the rules you agreed to."

He shook his head, jerking it side to side, "No, I had to visit someone... Needed my help."

After another step towards him, he scrambled to his feet, leaning back against the dresser, bracing himself. I stared down at him, knowing I was one of the few people on this planet that could instill fear in him.

Unfortunately, I had been staring directly into his eyes, and not at his hands. When I saw the first fraction of movement in his left arm, I reached for it and pinned it hard against the wall. As he tried to twist away from me, I managed to force him against the wall, his face and chest pressing into the drywall.

But as I flipped him, his right hand had come forward and he stabbed something into my thigh.

He managed to turn his head so that his left cheek was against the wall. Through clamped teeth, he cackled, "Happy nightmare, Batman."

Furious, I delivered a blow to the base of his skull and he went limp instantly and fell to the ground in a heap. I looked down at my leg to see a small needle and syringe embedded into my upper leg. I carefully removed it, bagged it and secured it in my utility belt. After radioing Oracle to have a police unit come pick Crane up, I stepped outside and made me way back to the car.

Once seated and the door had sealed, I removed my glove and pulled up the sleeve of my tunic. After measuring out a five cc dose of the antidote, I injected it into the median cubital vein in the crook of my arm, winced slightly and then depressed the plunger. Once removed, I set the syringe on the dash and folded my arm to put pressure on it. Generally, if the antidote was given in time, whatever Crane could dish out would have little or no effect.

So when I began to feel drowsy and nauseous, I became all too aware that whatever he had given me wasn't a regular dose of fear toxin. I depressed the comm. link on the dash and did my best to tell Oracle what had happened. But just as her image came up on the screen, my eyes closed and I was unable to open them.

V

A little after midnight, I was putting away my medical charts and gathering my things to go home when my cell phone rang. It was a selected tone, one programmed in the phone so that when a certain individual called, I would instantly know who it was and what he needed.

When I answered, "Yes?" I was surprised to get a young male voice on the other end of the line, "Leslie, we're on our way, he's been poisoned by Scarecrow."

"Right," I replied and hung up.

Thankfully, having closed two hours earlier, the clinic was cleared out of both patients and staff. I traveled from my office, down the hall and stepped into a rear exam room that had long been the sanctity for an array of battered vigilantes. While I waited, I plugged in the oxygen tubules into the wall tank reserves, hooked up the cardiograms and retrieved syringes before setting up IV bags. Being poisoned, by any villain, was usually unpredictable in how to design a course of treatment.

I withdrew a dosage of Haldol and set it on the counter top. Having treated Bruce before while under the chemical control of Scarecrow's fear toxin, I knew he might possibly need to be put under in order to care for him. Fear was a dangerous thing.

I, along with everyone in the neighborhood, heard the growl of the Batmobile long before it arrived. It came to an abrupt halt in the rear lot behind the clinic and as always, I stepped out to the back exit to meet them halfway. I half expected Bruce to step out of the car, with Tim right behind him in case he stumbled or fell. When I saw Bruce, out cold in the driver's seat and Tim getting off of a cycle behind the car, I felt my concern triple.

Robin approached the driver's side of the car and began pulling Bruce out. I noticed his limbs jerked slightly and I suddenly panicked at thought that he was suffering from seizures. But on a closer look, it seemed to be regular involuntary movements, lacking the rigidity common with convulsions.

As we moved him into the exam room, Tim spoke quickly and as calmly as he could, "He contacted Oracle after subduing Scarecrow in his apartment, and then he called her back from the Batmobile and he passed out right in front of her eyes. She did her best to wake him but nothing worked. By the time I got to him, he was out for the count and then half way over here, Barbara saw him jerking over the camera."

"Did he tell her what happened before, with Crane?" I asked as we pushed him up onto the gurney.

He shook his head, "He didn't even tell her anything happened. There was a syringe on the dash, but he must have used it to give himself the antidote to what he thought was the fear toxin."

I took his vitals carefully before asking Tim to remove Bruce's tunic, gloves and mask. After he had, I applied the cardiograph monitoring equipment and studied the screen as it showed his heart rate and oxygen levels. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but definitely elevated. As soon as I had inserted the saline IV and secured it, I left Tim to watch over him while I retrieved the EEG from down the hall.

When I had returned, Tim had produced a cell phone and was dialing. He swore, looked up at me apologetically before hanging up and redialing. As he spoke quietly into the phone, I wiped Bruce's brow, paused for a half of second to stare at the faint scar on his forehead and then secured EEG sensors to his skull. As soon as the machine was plugged in, I watched the screen and studied the waves as they formed. Intriguingly, they were delta waves, high and slow, which were commonly found in the fourth stage of sleep, the one where people dreamed.

Tim hung up and asked, "What's wrong with him?"

I shook my head, "He's sleeping. Dreaming actually."

I pointed out my findings to him and he stared at me in disbelief before saying, "Why can't he wake up?"

"That I don't know, most likely whatever he was exposed to involved a strong acting tranquilizer that put him under so the toxins could affect his system. I'll test his blood, see what comes up. He'll have to stay here for observation---."

He shook his head, "I was just talking with Alfred, he's on his way with the van to pick him up."

"Well, I don't care where he stays, as long as it's under strict bed rest and observation. Especially until we figure what's in his system."

While I drew blood from Bruce's right arm, his form seemed to calm slightly. I studied the EEG to see his brain waves had reduced to theta waves, characteristic of the third stage of sleep. Interesting, I thought as I sealed of the tube of blood. I told Tim I would be in the lab and to get me if Alfred came while I was gone.

After placing a good portion of the blood in the centrifuge, I went about setting out a sample of blood in a Petrie dish. In the back of one of the lab drawers, I retrieved a box of testing strips that Bruce had designed himself and given to me "just in case". In one of the small plastic tubes, I retrieved one that was specifically designed to test for fear toxin. After I depressed it into the dollop of blood, I watched as the blue test strip faded to a purple. In most cases, a positive indicator of the toxin turned the strip red.

Red was half of purple, I thought to myself.

As the blood spun, I set the timer and returned to the exam room. Just as I opened the door, I spotted Alfred coming through the rear exit. He wore a dark sweater over corduroy trousers and a worried look on his face. I reached out and touched his arm, "It's nothing too serious. From his vitals, it appears that he's been put under a deep sleep and his blood test showed only a minute amount of the toxin in his system."

He nodded curtly and then stepped forward, following me into the room. I watched him as he looked over Bruce's unconscious form. I recognized the pained expression that came over his features. "When do you think we would be able to relocate him, Dr. Thompkins?"

I shrugged, "There's nothing unstable about his condition. I'd give him an hour or so and then transport him. By then, his blood tests will be complete and you could take them home with you."

He nodded once more and then turned to Tim, "Are you all right, Master Timothy?"

The young man nodded slightly, "I wasn't there when... When it happened. I was working patrols in Coventry and Barbara called me... Said she couldn't wake him up."

In order to change the subject to a lighter tone, I asked, "Where's Mattie?"

Alfred cleared his throat, "She's under her mother's care at Ms. Gordon's."

I nodded before asking, "And has anyone called Dick?"

Tim spoke up, his eyes locked on Bruce's still form, "He's just outside of Bludhaven there's no service until he's in the city limits."

I let out a low sigh and asked him to keep trying to get a hold of him and to tell him the basics and that it wasn't serious. But no matter how we played it down, Dick had a slight tendency to over react, especially with Bruce getting hurt. Not that I could blame him. If my father had been nearly gunned down by a French Gangster, taking a year to fully recover, I would foresee every injury as being another tragedy as well.

As Alfred and Tim loaded Bruce onto a portable gurney, I finished the blood tests and counts and surprisingly found high amounts of apohaloperidol, a strong, fast acting long term tranquilizer, but other than the fear toxin, it was the only thing out of line. Bruce's RBC, WBC, platelets and plasma levels were all within the normal ranges. I printed off the results and handed them to Alfred before he began to maneuver the gurney to the back.

He thanked me and promised to call with regular updates.

"No, need, I'm going with you."

"I beg your pardon---," he began.

I shook my head before he began to argue, "I'll call in, family emergency."

"This hardly qualifies, Leslie, as an emergency."

"Yes it does. He's sick. That counts enough for me, these days."

There was no way Alfred would let me drive, so I sought refuge from his flabbergasted glare in the passenger seat while he and Tim loaded Bruce in the back of the medical van. As Alfred took the driver's seat, Tim scheduled the Batmobile on auto-pilot so that it followed him home on the cycle he had driven.

And in a somber caravan, we traveled out of the city and headed to the dark recesses of Bristol.

V


	4. One And Only: IV

Title: One And Only: IV  
  
Author: D C Luder  
  
Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?  
  
Rating: PG 13 for language  
  
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.  
  
Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Enormous shout out is necessary for Chris, who has made making fic funny even funnier than funny fic.

V

"If I may, I think it would be more suitable to leave him down here, Ms. Selina."

We had just unloaded the gurney from the medical van, Master Bruce's form slumbering almost too peacefully after an encounter with the Scarecrow. His wife stood opposite myself on the other side of the gurney, her bottom lip held hostage by her upper incisors. She had been looking down at him since the moment she had arrived, cutting short her night with Ms. Gordon. Dr. Thompkins had emphasized with her that his condition was hardly serious, that when the drugs wore off he would be good as his usual self.

"I want him upstairs," she finally replied.

Dr. Thompkins approached her, "Selina, we can monitor him better here, and it would be rather unfortunate if Mattie saw him like this---."

"Like what?" she turned and faced the older woman, "You just said he's fine, so there's no need to monitor anything. And if Mattie comes into our room, it would be just like any other morning when he's still sleeping."

I looked over at Dr. Thompkins and she shrugged before nodding. "I'll ready the elevator." Leaving them to watch over Master Bruce, I strode towards the stair well and then turned to the right towards a small pair of steel doors. After depressing a hidden button, I heard the soft hum of the electric car making its way back down from the first floor. It reached every floor of the house, but to enter the Cave, a special key had to be inserted as well as a numeric code. A necessary precaution, I thought to myself, trying to ignore images of Bane ripping apart the clock entrance years ago...

As soon as it arrived, the doors opened and I set them to hold until commanded otherwise. When I returned to the medical bay, Dr. Thompkins had removed the oxygen cannula and had already taken the IV fluid bag from its stand and set it beside his left arm. She nodded in my direction, "Ready when you are."

The trip up to the third floor bedroom was done in silence. I had Dr. Thompkins keep an eye on Miss Mattie while Ms. Selina and I situated Master Bruce in his bed. Between the two of us, we managed to move him fairly easily. Having dealt with countless accounts of him being indisposed over the years, it took only moment to retrieve a metal IV stand from his closet and to set his bag on it. After glancing at my watch, I noticed the time to be nearing two in the morning.

"Will there be anything else?"

She shook her head slowly as she sat beside him, still looking down at him with the same concerned look and lip biting.

As I stepped through the door, I watched out of the corner of my eye as she leaned over his body, arms snaking around his neck and I heard the beginnings of quiet sobs.

I took the gurney from the hall and pushed it back in the direction of the elevator. Dr. Thompkins was at the end of the hall, glancing into Miss Mattie's half-opened door. I paused beside her and looked in myself. Both of the felines that took up residence in the house were snuggled up close to the child on either side of her. A night chill had closed in and they were offering warmth to their favorite playmate. It wouldn't take long, however for Isis, she who takes joy from opening my kitchen cupboard doors, to sense that her owner had returned.

We walked away together and as I set the gurney in the elevator, she touched my arm. I turned and she nodded to the stairs. She knew I would resist, and would want to care for things in the Cave before settling for the night. We took the stairs at a languid pace, avoiding physical contact and speaking. Upon entering the kitchen, I switched over from caregiver to dutiful servant. Fetching the teakettle from the back burner, I filled it with fresh water and set it to boil.

When I turned to retrieve two cups and spoons, I noticed Dr. Thompkins had already done so. I interrupted her action, "Madam, if you would let me tend to that..."

She shook her head and set the cups and utensils on the counter, "Oh, simmer down Alfred."

While waiting for the whistle of steam, we sat at the kitchen nook table, sitting next to one another, sharing a minute of stillness. After a moment she reached for my hand and I gave it to her, "He was lucky." I nodded slightly and let her continue, "He can't be lucky every time."

"Truer words were never spoken, my dear."

For the next hour, we drank warm tea and shared each other's company. I offered to drive her home and instead she settled on spending the night. I lead her to the second floor where the guest rooms were and when I paused to open a door for her, she bypassed me altogether and proceeded to the door that lead to my quarters. As I turned to stare at her, she shrugged and let herself in.

"My heavens," I muttered, "No rest for the weary, indeed."

V

When I woke up, the first thing I did was look at my alarm clock. I stared for moment, and then said aloud, "Seven-oh-five." My alarm had not been set, Dad must have forgotten.

Thinking about him, I smiled as I slipped out of bed and put my slippers on. They were new ones, Tim gave them to me for starting school. I opened my door quietly, peered out into the hall and then stepped out. As I walked towards Mom and Dad's room, I passed the room I used to live in when I was a baby. Mom had everything in there just as it was when I was little, even my crib. She said someday, maybe, there might be another baby who might need to sleep there. Being the only child, I sure wouldn't mind someone else to play with.

Their door was shut and when I opened it and looked inside, I realized the lights were off too. After my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that Dad was still in bed, but Mom wasn't. When I stepped into the room, I saw the bathroom door was open and the light was on. I could even hear the shower running. Usually she never got up this early, must be she couldn't sleep in that morning.

Being as quiet as I could, I crept over and crawled onto the bed next to Dad. He was really asleep, not just pretending like he did sometimes. He was really good at pretending, but I could always tell. I tapped a finger on his shoulder and whispered, "Dad?"

He didn't move. I tapped harder and spoke louder, still nothing. Maybe he was sick, and that's why he was sleeping in. I put the palm of my hand on his forehead and smirked when I felt warmth. Hopping off of the bed, I told him, "Be right back, Dad, stay put."

I snuck into their bathroom and pulled out the step stool from the linen closet. After setting it up to the sink, I climbed up and opened the cabinet door. Behind a box of bandages, I found the thermometer and pulled it out. As I returned the stool, I heard Mom ask, "Mattie, is that you?"

I looked towards the foggy shower door, "Yes."

She paused, "What are you doing, honey?"

I finished putting the stool away and then answered, "Taking Dad's temperature."

"Um, why?"

I sighed, "Because he has a fever, Mom. I need to make him better."

Her hand slipped out of the shower, took a robe off the wall hook and then snuck back inside, "Okay, you go do that, I'll be right out."

When I got back onto the bed, Dad's head had tilted a bit on the pillow. I set the thermometer down on the bed and then pushed his head back over so it was straight. Then I took the thermometer, pressed the green button and said, "Say ahh."

He didn't. In fact, he didn't do anything. I pulled his mouth open, stuck the mouth part in and then shut it. Not too tight though, cause it could break. I counted aloud to five, listened to the beep and then took the thermometer back out.

Mom had walked out of the bathroom and was standing behind me, "What does it say?"

I looked at the numbers and read them to her, "One, oh, oh."

"That's not too bad. Why don't you get a wet washcloth for him, there's one on the rack in the bathroom."

"Okay," I pushed myself off of the bed and put the thermometer on the nightstand before heading to the bathroom. There was a dark blue washcloth on the bar next to the sink and I took it and reached up to the faucet to wet it. Mom had taught me how to do it when I had been sick last winter, and she told me that the cold washcloth made a warm head feel better.

When I got back to the bed, Mom was sitting next to him, pulling the blankets up higher on his chest. I crawled back up onto the bed, sat on her lap and gently set the cloth on Dad's brow. We watched him sleep for a moment before I leaned back against Mom, "Is he sick?"

She nodded as she put a hand on the back of my head, "Yeah, a bit. He needs his rest, but he'll be okay."

I chewed on my lower lip before asking, "Why is he sick?"

Mom tossled my hair slightly, "He hasn't been sleeping well, when he catches up on his sleep, he'll be good as new."

I reached out and touched his hand as it lay next to his side. Whenever I was sick, Dad was always there to take care of me. I guess it was my job to be right there to make sure he got better. After a pause, I looked up at Mom and stated, "I'm going to stay home, take care of him. Make him allll better."

Although she smiled, she said, "I don't think so. You have school, little missy. Actually, you better go get washed up and get dressed, I'm sure Alfred would be sad if you were late for breakfast."

In spite of making my best pout face, she pushed me off of her lap before standing and set me next to Dad. I sighed loudly and looked over at him, "No fair." I smiled when he moved slightly and to see if I could actually wake him, I leaned over and poked his shoulder. He moved a bit more and I noticed his eyelids blinking slowly. Without a thought, I climbed up onto him and sat on his chest, just as I did every morning. After bouncing a bit I asked, "Dad, are you awake?"

Finally, he opened his eyes halfway and stared at me, looking confused like I had asked him a weird question. I asked him again and he tried to reply, but his words came out mumbled and I couldn't understand him. I told him to lie still and that I would get him some medicine. He mumbled again just before closing his eyes.

"Mom!" I called out while returning to the bathroom.

She ran out, still in her robe, but with her wet hair down on her shoulders, "Quiet, Mattie, your father's still sleeping."

I shook my head and walked passed her, "No, he's awake, he needs medicine."

She shook her head as she stared over at the bed. I looked too and Dad was trying to sit up, but slipped and fell back down in the mattress. She turned back to me, "Sweetie, you really need to go get dressed okay, I'll make sure he gets his medicine."

"I want to help..."

"I know," she leaned over and kissed my forehead, "Tonight you can help Dad all you want, right now you have to get ready."

As she quickly brushed her hair and put it in a loose bun, I walked away slowly, dragging my feet on the carpet. When I passed the bed, I smiled when Dad asked, "Mattie?" He was laying back down, the blankets around his waist. He must have still been pretty tired because his eyes weren't open all of the way.

Even though Mom told me I had to get moving, I hopped over to the bed, "Morning Dad." When I got back onto the bed, I sat next to him instead of on him, then leaned over and hugged him. His left arm came up and limply rested over my back. When I sat up, I told him, "You're sick, Dad. Mom and I are taking care of you." As I smiled at him, I saw the washcloth I had gotten him had fallen off of his head. I reached for it but he moved to pick up the cloth too, but I said firmly, "I got it."

"Okay," he muttered. After I got my hand around it, I picked it up, folded it and then put it on his head. He thanked me and reached for my hand, "All right, Doctor, get to work."

"Hmm," I thought quietly, trying to remember the questions I was asked whenever I was sick, and when on came to me, I asked, "Can you breathe?"

Dad drew in a big breath and I watched as his chest expanded and fell, "Yes."

I already knew he had a fever, so I moved on to the next question, "Does your tummy hurt?" He shook his head, and I continued, "What hurts then?"

After a deep sigh, he said, "My head."

The one I forgot. I knew just how to cure it though. As I crawled up onto him, I did my best not to smile. "Hold still," I whispered. With my face mere inches from his, I leaned in the last bit and kissed his forehead. "All better."

Dad smiled and agreed, "All better."

V

At a quarter after seven, while sitting in a pair of blue plaid pants on the counter next to my sink, shoveling Fruit Loops into my mouth, I mumbled into the phone, "Hallo?"

"Dick, it's me."

I swallowed hard, nearly dropped my bowl and carefully slipped off of onto the floor, "Barbara, hi," I managed as a dollop of milk slipped out of the corner of my mouth.

"Bad time?"

After wiping the back of my hand across my face, "Nah, I was just getting up to go to work." I scooped the last spoonful up, ate it, then dumped the bowl into the sink. A few weeks earlier, Barbara had called me and wanted to start working on what had once been our relationship. This had been the fourteenth call we had shared in September, and with only three days left of the month, I wondered if it would be the last.

As I headed towards the bedroom, I asked, "So, what's up?"

"Nothing."

I paused, a smile already dominating my face, "So why did you call then?"

She took a sharp breath and then replied, "Bruce has new antitoxins for Scarecrow venom, several actually. Whenever you can, he said you could come pick them up. New inhalants, serums, the works."

Despite the fact that three weeks earlier, the man I held the most admiration for, the man who raised me, had been poisoned by Dr. Jonathan Crane and had subsequently been unconscious for nearly ten hours, I couldn't help but laugh. It was a long running joke that Bruce didn't accept matters when they went wrong. Hell, Bane had crippled him and instead of wasting away on the doctor ordered bed rest, he had gone around the world, rescuing my father and the kidnapped doctor that had been treating him. So after reliving a few of his worst memories via the Scarecrow toxins, he had been hunkered down in his laboratory tinkering with the antidote.

"Ah, he really does care about me," I managed after reducing my guffaws to giggles.

Barbara was doing her best not to share the moment of amusement, but I could still detect the lightness in her voice when she said, "Actually, he was going to send you some, but I think he wants to test it out on you."

After a moment, I stated, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Barbara, but don't you have to be poisoned first to test the effectiveness of an antidote?"

"That would be correct. Anyway, he wanted me to tell you, and I did."

While brushing lint off of my good black suit, I leered, "Oh, I bet you called for something else."

"Oh really?" she replied, far from being amused, "And what would that be?"

"You wanted to listen to me while I got dressed for work."

At that, she did laugh, "Honestly, Dick. If I wanted to hear or see you get dressed, I'd activate the bugs I have in your apartment."

It was difficult to decide whether she was pulling my leg or if she actually had the ability to see me pulling on my slacks. I told her I'd give her a show some other time, and that I really had to get going. She sighed, said to drop by with Chinese food when I came over to see Bruce.

After I agreed, I hung up and tossed the portable phone onto my unmade bed. In ten minutes, I was dressed, brushed, belted and on my way down the stairs of the apartment building. Taking my bike, the drive into work was fairly easy, with just the beginnings of morning commuters blocking my path to BPD. When I pulled into the parking lot reserved for officers, detectives and the like, I growled at the sight of a black Jeep Grand Cherokee in my spot. We weren't actually assigned spots, with exception to the higher ups of course, but we each generally parked the same way every day.

I found a space in the rear left, on the end of a long row of unmarked Cavaliers. I walked briskly back towards the building, checking my holster and then my hair as I moved. The very second I stepped into the Detective Wing, I heard a loud, "Hey, Dick, you see my new wheels?"

I located the origin of the voice and all negative feelings vanished. Sitting on the corner of his desk was Detective Sergeant Doug Roberts, a legend in Bludhaven and a failure in the deep-sea fishing of Atlantic. Having taken two weeks of vacation to attempt to catch "the big one", Roberts had returned back to us tan and cheerful, a rare commodity in these parts without the aide of UV beds and lithium.

Pausing before him, I set my hands on my hips in a move that had been drilled into my brain the very first day. It pulled back the front of my coat in order to reveal the leather holster as well as the badge that was clipped to my belt. Intimidating and showy, I simply did it out of habit. "That black thing? You finally give up on fishing, taking up on off-roading?"

He laughed and stood, reaching for my hand with his left. When I grasped it, he smiled, "Nah, nearly caught the big one this time, boy, sonofabitch must have been ten feet long. Ate the line, my pole, everything!"

Hardy came up from his desk and patted Roberts on his back in mock sympathy, "There there, Douglas, you'll get him next time."

I grinned, "That's right. Let him know you're a cop this time."

Roberts snickered, "And do what, show him my badge?"

A few of the straying detectives in the room drew in closer to join the early morning banter. Most of them, I recognized, were from Dugger's shift. The graveyard. I had done my best to stay in the day shifts, mostly because I didn't want to surrender Nightwing's activities for my paycheck.

As the "boys" started picking at Roberts' new haircut and dark tan, I heard the phone ring. I was about to walk over to answer it when I noticed Trey had appeared from nowhere, "I'll handle this one, Richie."

I shrugged, "Be my guest."

The detectives in Bludhaven lived by the phone. Calls came in, we answered, we responded. On a quiet shift, you could count on one hand how many times the phone rang. On a bad night, the ringing will echo in your ears for hours.

He did his best to sound knowledgeable and assertive to whoever was on the other line. He even stood still long enough to ask a few questions and to not fiddle with his tie. Maybe he could learn a thing or two. Just after he hung up, he looked at me, his face solemn but offering no clue as to what had come over the line.

"Well?" I asked. "Where are we headed?"

"Yeah," Layton called out, "Who's the vic, Kiddo?"

He sighed and then said, "Two dozen jelly doughnuts. Fell all over the floor over at Dozer's Donuts. Said to tell you, Layton, that it's going to be another half hour or so before they can send you your breakfast."

It took a few seconds for us to accept the humor and even longer for the laughs to die down. Mostly, we did our best to keep the macabre and pain of our work from sinking into our skin too deep. On my first year anniversary of surviving of homicide, my superior had given me a coffee mug with his favorite phrase on it.

Homicide. Where our day begins and yours ends.

Rough humor and off-colored jokes kept our spirits somewhat light. I secretly thought back to all of the childish mannerisms I laid out on Bruce when I was growing up, bringing my sophomoric behavior in order to counteract with his dark side.

As I sat at my desk, I let out a soft smile, while picturing Batman investigating a mass murder of jelly doughnuts.

And then the phone rang.

V

As my third call of the day, he answered after two rings, "Detective Grayson."

"Hi!" I said a little too loudly. I hadn't talked with anyone besides Barbara for weeks, and with newfound free time, I could finally catch up.

"Cassandra? Hey, how has it been?"

"Good, been busy. Real busy. I teach at the dojo."

He replied, "Yeah, Barbara told me. Raking in all those francs while beating up innocent folks."

"Not beating them up," I replied sternly, then I softened my voice, "Not really."

He laughed, "Whatever you say. So when are you coming home? Henri must be just about frustrated as all hell with you by now."

I was out on the terrace of the apartment, staring down as merchants were packing up their tables. There was a bad thunderstorm on the way and getting caught in it was not part of their agenda. When I looked up, I caught a faint flash of lightning over on the East Bank where a thick covering of black clouds was fast approaching.

Henri said it was going to be the biggest one, closing off the summer. And our time together. It had been phenomenal, working alongside such a gifted individual. He had superior methods of tracking, fighting and even killing. He was honored that he had the privilege of not only working with a protégé of the Batman, but also the daughter of David Cain.

And despite that I had taken an oath not to take another life, he did not pressure me as Batman had warned me. And in a little over two months, in exchange for weekly sparring matches, he had done everything in his power to teach me just as he had done years earlier with my mentor.

"Next week. Have to pack though."

"Right, I know how that is. Was anyone coming out to get you or were you flying back on your own?"

I smiled, thinking of my return home, "Alfred's coming to get me," I bit my lip before asking, "So, everyone okay?"

"Same as always. Mattie's loving school, she's got finger paintings taped up all over the fridge. I think she's even got a few saved for you. I bet she makes about five a day, then they cut her off so she doesn't use all of the paint."

My smile grew just thinking about her. I had spent a great deal of time with her for most of her life, and after being separated for months, I couldn't wait to get back to see her. She had sent me two letters since I left, both of which I kept safe in a small case that also held my Batgirl suit. In my time in Paris, I had donned it twice and had hardly ventured far from my temporary home. He had warned me against doing so, since in a foreign country, our work was not quite as accepted.

And the last thing I needed was to be caught snooping around the rooftops of Paris.

"Well, Cass, I hate to cut this short, but I have to get going. When you get back, I'm sure we can have a great big dinner, and although a bit premature, I already challenge you to a duel."

I laughed a bit, thinking back on countless meals where he, Tim and I did our best to out eat each other. In fact, two summers earlier, all three of us as well as Barbara, had gone out to dinner for her birthday. It had been one of the finest steak houses in Gotham City, and also one of the few in the state to offer an impressive ninety-six ounce steak. If ordered and completely devoured, the meal was on the house. Each of us had ordered it, excluding Barbara who went with a t-bone and a baked potato. And despite our efforts, none of us had completed the steaks, but I had been the one to be the closest with a whopping eight ounces remaining.

"You're on," I replied before saying good-bye and hanging up.

With one final look to the dark sky, I stepped back inside and shut the glass terrace doors behind me. I had one more call to make, and somehow, it seemed to be the hardest one. After taking a seat on the couch, I stared down at my cell phone and sighed. Then, I carefully dialed ten digits that I had long since memorized.

This time, it took four rings, "Hello?"

It took a long moment for me to reply, "Hi, Tim."

"Cass?"

I nodded as I spoke, "Yeah, it's me."

There were several voices in the background, mostly male and mostly laughing. I heard him tell them to quiet down and then, "Sorry, I'm up at the gym."

"I can call later---."

"No, no, it's no problem, I was just taking a break. So what's going on?"

I bit lip and stared down at my feet, "Nothing. Getting ready to come home.

"That's great, been pretty quiet around here. How's Henri? Was he a jerk to you?"

"No, he was nice. Sparred a lot," I began to tap my foot and I quickly settled it. I never liked being nervous. More so, I didn't like not being in control.

Tim spoke, "But you showed him a thing or two."

"I did. And likewise. Very smart man."

"And a very unpredictable man. Gave me the creeps when I was there, never knew if I could trust him or not. Especially after he showed me that knife trick..."

Although he had probably been terrified of the "knife trick" I had been amused. It was a simple throwing exercise where you spread your hand out on the table at dinner with your fork's handle under the palm of your hand, tongs pointing out beyond the fingers. And from his seat across from you, Henri could close his eyes and throw the knife at the fork and pin it to the table, the blade always perfectly between the middle pair of tongs.

After a week, I could do the same back to him.

Not wanting to gloat, I didn't tell Tim about that. Instead I told him I had to get going, and when he asked where I answered, "Have a class at the dojo."

"Right. Well, hey, call me when you get back, or before you leave."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye, Cass."

After hanging up, I put the phone on the arm of the couch. One more week and I would leave all of it behind to return to my life. Back to long nights of patrols and rough streets brimming with thugs and villains. Back home to my family.

I couldn't wait.

V

"Good night, kitten," I whispered as I leaned over and kissed her brow.

As I sat on the edge of her bed, looking down on her sleeping face, I heard Selina's footsteps as she walked through the door. She came up behind me and rested her arms on my shoulders while leaning down to kiss my cheek. Before pulling back, she whispered in my ear, "Coming?"

I nodded, pulled Mattie's blankets up again and then touched her hand gently before rising as carefully as possible. After shutting the lights off and half-closing the door, we walked to the bedroom in silence. She had changed from the slacks and blouse she had sported for most of the day to a pair of cotton shorts and a long-sleeved tee, both dark gray. I had showered after patrols and wore my cotton robe and slippers.

Being the second one into the room, I shut the door behind me before making my way across the room to the dresser. Selina plopped on her side of the bed and laid out on her stomach. Via the mirror, I watched as her reflection raised her lower legs up and bobbed them up and down slowly. As I pulled on a pair of flannel pants, she watched with a slight smirk on her face.

"So, are you actually going to do this zoo chaperone thing? Because I don't want you getting her hopes up and then crushing them just because 'something came up"."

I shook my head before walking over and slipping into bed, "No, she asked, I said yes, I'm doing it."

She rolled onto her back and got into bed as well, "All I'm saying is that I know how you are, Bruce. I can tolerate it, she can't."

"She won't," I offered her a look of sincerity before reaching over and shutting of the bedside lamp. When I reclined onto the bed, I glanced at the clock. Quarter of four. Not too bad considering I told her it would be an early night. With Batgirl's return within the next week, patrols would go even quicker, allowing for nearly the entire city to be checked on at some point in the night.

Selina moved closer, set her head on the corner of my pillow and rested an arm across my chest. When she was comfortable, she sighed before yawning. I reached over and draped an arm over her back and rubbed between her shoulder blades softly before whispering, "Good night."

"Ah, no pillow talk?"

I glanced over at her, my nose inches from hers, "Talk."

She sighed again and turned away from me, moving back to her own pillow. I knew she wasn't really mad, but she wanted me to think so. I gave her a few minutes of pouting before reaching over and pulling her back to me. Selina squirmed a bit, tried to elbow me but then took to giggling when she felt my lips on her ears, "Stop it."

I ignored her and replied, "If I remember this right, pillow talk follows something else that may or may not involve pillows. And may or may not involve talking."

She turned her head to show me the glare on her face and then pulled the covers towards her. My hand settled on her hip as the other traced the contours of her lower back. I planted another kiss on her neck and then another at her shoulder. Another kiss to her neck and I felt the tension fade as a soft giggle returned to her lips. When she turned to face me, Selina wrapped her arms about my neck and pulled herself tighter to me. I felt teeth graze my collarbone as sculpted nails traced the scapular ridges of my back. She pushed me onto my back and moved on top of me, shaking her head with an odd smile on her face.

We made love quickly, and almost in near silence. Even with Mattie four doors down the hall, Selina had been ever fearful of getting caught in a romantic moment and had been unable to comprehend why I didn't seem to be as paranoid as she. In Mattie's five years of life, there had been one close call. She had been three at the time and was having problems sleeping alone. Usually, after I came home from patrols, if there was going to be anything happening in that department, I would lock the door. I had no intentions of making love to my wife that night, however she had a different agenda. The door had not been locked, Mattie had walked in just after the climatic moment, and Selina had blamed it all on me.

Sheathed in a light sweat, I kissed Selina's brow before she moved off of me. As before, she took not only her pillows, but a portion of mine as well. Once situated, she looked over at me, the same smile on her lips. I smirked momentarily and then failed to suppress a yawn. "Ha, did I tire you out?"

"That and I have been awake for twenty hours."

She shrugged before yawning herself, "Sounds like a personal problem."

We chatted a bit more, her voice growing quieter and slower. She had been fairly busy of late while organizing and seeking out contractors for the reserve project. Most days, she was up before me, already on the computer or the phone, checking in on status reports and bids. Most nights, I put Mattie to bed while Selina sketched out facility designs and organized general feeding programs.

After three minutes of silence, I looked over at her and even in the darkness of the room, I noticed her lids had closed. She had fallen asleep on her side, facing me, with on hand on my side and the other laying next to mine. I traced her fingers with mine and was about to roll over onto my side to face her when her fingers twitched. Watching silently, I saw her fingers hook around my thumb, the pressure slight but present.

Although unintelligible, she muttered something and moved onto her back, her fingers still grasping mine. Instead of slipping them off, I gave her my hand and situated myself so that I was on my side.

She and I had not been on the best of terms since the incident with Crane. She, along with Alfred and Leslie, had been slowly dropping hints as to question how much longer I could physically do my work. I had no such inquiry and simply ignored their sly comments while going about my business. What had happened with the toxin had been an error in judgment, one that I rarely made. To make light of it and to ease Selina's worries, I had told her some of the minor visions the toxins had brought to my mind. The darker, disturbing ones, such as finding Jason's bloody corpse and having Bane shatter my spine, I obviously left to myself.

But the one where I had envisioned our daughter sitting on the teeter-totter, and then being catapulted into the air as a chubby fifth grader landed on the other end, that one seemed to be one of the safer ones to share.

V

Sorry about the wait, next chapter up shortly :)


	5. One And Only: V

Title: One And Only: V  
  
Author: D C Luder  
  
Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?  
  
Rating: PG 13 for language  
  
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.  
  
Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: The zoo trip was mostly conjured by Chris, whom I owe just about all of my motivation to. A million thanks!!!

A/N 3: the case Dick takes on at the end of the chapter and then carries on through the rest of the story is based on one seen in David Simon's "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets" as well as the basis for a few of the characters seen in the Bludhaven Homicide Unit.

V

"You ever think about growing a moustache, Grayson?"

Trey and I had been walking the faded green hall towards interrogation. While stirring my coffee, I shrugged my shoulders, "Not really, why do you ask?"

He went about straightening his tie and unbuttoning his blazer, "Well, all good detectives have a moustache. And, hell, you've got to be one of the good ones, right?"

At that, I smiled, "Think I'd look good with one?"

He said he didn't swing that way and then asked, "Hey, you want help with this perp?"

The perp was none other than Carl "The Rammer" Ramono, a long time pain in the backside for Bludhaven. For the last year or so he had been a hired enforcer and protector of one of the city's lesser-known mobsters who had finally hit it big in the drug trafficking business. Unfortunately, where Carl was the best in the brute force department, he had never been high up in the smarts. He had been found by police at the scene of a double homicide, where not only one of his current employer's rivals had been slain, but his current employer as well.

I told Trey he could sit in but that I would handle the questioning. The disappointment he had washed over his face but instead of his usual complaining about not being treated fairly, he agreed and even opened the door for me.

We were in Room Five, one of twelve ten foot-by-ten foot cells furnished with ancient card tables and less than desirable folding chairs. In one of the three chairs, slouched a handcuffed, blood-spattered Carl, who almost appeared to be sleeping. An officer had been standing just outside the door and as we passed through, he nodded, "Detective."

When I looked over at him, I smiled and reached for his hand, "Charlie Drexler."

"Dick Grayson," he replied as he pumped my hand with the same iron grip he had delivered on our first day at the Academy. I recalled many morning runs and late nights on the shooting range with him. We had always joked how someday we would be the old cops on the beat, roughing up kids loitering in front of the corner drug store. Nearly eight years later, I was working my way through homicide and he had failed the sergeant's test twice.

We shared a few pleasantries before he put his hat back on his head, "Well, I better get going. "Nice seeing you. Good luck with this one," he chuckled.

"Thanks, I'll need it," I replied and shut the door after he left. Trey had already pulled a chair away from the table and had sat at an angle to Carl. The second chair, the one left for me, was directly across from the suspect. After setting my coffee down, I pulled it away from the table slightly and then sat, "Good evening."

He nodded and when I locked eyes with him, he mumbled, "Evenin'."

"Definitely not a good one is it? Guess I phrased that wrong," I spoke quietly as I opened the manila folder I had brought in with me. On the top was a printed version of the state's Miranda rights with a spot on the bottom for the suspect's signature and the interrogating detective's name as well. I set it on the table and pushed it over to his side and waited for some sort of reaction.

His stubble-clad face twisted in a look of fatigue mixed with acceptance. My favorite face on a suspect, besides wailing pleas for forgiveness. "Now, I know you already have your rights memorized, but by law, I am required to make sure that you are read and that you understand them. Are we clear on that, Carl?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah. I got it."

We worked our way through each one, and after I read them, I made him read them as well. Once everything was legal, we both signed at the bottom and I dated it before returning it to the file. "Well, now that's out of the way..."

"I'm not in the way of nothing," Carl mumbled.

"Excuse me?" I asked for clarification as to what nothing entailed.

"Nothing."

I heard Trey snicker slightly and I through a glare at him. He hid behind his coffee cup. When I looked back at Carl, I asked, "Would you like to explain to me, exactly, what happened at the Dayview Apartments this evening at the hour of eight p.m.?"

"Yeah I was there."

I nodded, "Right, I think that's been established. What were you doing there."

"A job for Mr. J."

A vision of the Joker flashed in the back of my head, even though I knew his employer was named Jones, not Joker. Suppressing my smile, I continued, "And by Mr. J, you are referring to your late employer, one Horace P. Jones, a notorious criminal in the city of Bludhaven."

He nodded and licked his lower lip, "Yep, that's him. Mr. J."

"And what did this job include? What did he ask you to do, Carl?"

"He said to kill Clayborne."

"Clayborne, Joshua Louis. Also now deceased."

"Yeah, cause I did my job."

To allow for a pause, I sighed and clicked the top of my pen a few times and scrawled a note on a blank sheet of legal pad. Carl strained to see what I had written but when I looked up, he glanced back down at his hands.

Before I spoke again, he shrugged, "But Clayborne, he asked me to do Mr. J in for him."

Was it just me or were criminals just getting dumber and dumber?

An hour later, after the story had been retold three times, a confession had been written and signed and Carl had been lead away by a pair of uniforms to lock-up. Trey was following me back down the hall, "I can't believe it. Stupid bastard confessing to a double homicide like that. Wish they were all that easy..."

I shook my head and tossed my empty coffee cup into a waste nestled underneath a water fountain that not even the mice dared to drink from. Just upon entering the main lair of homicide, I paused at the left hand wall and smiled. On a large tack board, lists of all the homicide detectives, their cases, and the squad leaders were posted for all to see. Originally, the Board had been designed in order to better depict the most current solve rates of any aspect of the division at any given time. It was interesting how quickly consideration had evolved into competition, with each shift doing its best to show up the others. When I found my name and glanced at all of the black lettered cases beside my name, I grinned.

Red indicated a case that was open or unsolved. Black represented a solved and closed case. Of the six detectives on my shift, I had the highest rate for the month, ten for ten, including Carl's mistake of killing his boss and his boss's enemy.

"Cha-ching, boy. Damn, you're making us old-timer's look bad."

I turned to see Grant Morris, forty-ish and graying, intelligent yet bearish in his manners. He was of my favorite detectives to work a case with, not only because he could hold meaningful conversation, he had one of the sharpest analytical minds that I had seen outside of the FBI or the Bat-Clan. I offered a stone face and said, "Well, I figured I been making you old timer's look bad for some time now, given my devilish good looks, might as well kick your ass in crime solving while I'm at it."

He chuckled a bit and was about to speak when the phone rang. With the best mood in the room, I stepped towards it and answered, "Bludhaven Homicide, Detective Grayson speaking?"

"Ah, Detective Grayson, this is Steve at dispatch, we just got a call in from ReRun Sports Wear on Harrington and 12th. Manager called it in, victim assaulted the cashier with a .38, cashier assaulted back with a driving wedge. Went a little overboard."

"Hmm, seem to be solving themselves today," I commented as I copied down the address on my note pad.

"It's going to be that kind of day, sir."

V

"Good morning, Sir, Madam."

Although I had been in the room for just under a full minute and had greeted them rather loudly, neither of the slumbering forms moved beneath the covers. To further encourage their waking, I drew back the curtains on the far windows, letting in a brilliant flood of sunlight. For early October, the weather had been fairly mild, despite the continuous changing of the leaves. Miss Mattie had already begun her leaf collection for the year, taking in a wide spectrum of colors and shapes to keep in a shoebox on her dresser.

She claimed that aside from my fudge brownies the only aroma that could come close would be that of dried leaves.

Master Bruce finally grumbled something and sat up on the bed. Before I could greet him once more, Miss Mattie trotted into the room, already dressed for the day, "It's today!" she cried out before attacking her father with a mighty embrace. He patted her back, wished her a good morning and then did his best to free himself from her grasp.

As she crawled over him and onto her mother's still horizontal form, Master Bruce rose slowly and took an awkward step before reaching for his robe and moving onto the bathroom. I was about to ask what he desired for breakfast when he turned back, "Mattie can pick breakfast, Alfred."

"Very well, sir," I nodded and watched as he shut the door behind him. After turning back to the bed, I noticed that Miss Mattie had already gotten off and was approaching me, "And what would you wish for breakfast, young lady?"

She grinned, "Ostrich eggs."

"My word, that would be quite a feast. Perhaps something lighter would be more suitable a meal."

A soft pout came to her lips of which was replaced with a soft smile, "I guess regular eggs would be okay."

In order to allow her parents to ready themselves for the day in peace, I guided the exuberant child out of the room, shutting the doors after we had passed through. In less than an hour, she and her father were to embark on the very first official school field trip, one of many I feared. Master Bruce had at first been wary of his daughter's involvement, more so because he was unsure of the safety his child would face while visiting the zoo under the supervision of others. After all, he himself was a prominent figure in society and there was no telling what sort of corporate heathens would be lurking to snatch the young lady from the giraffe exhibit.

It was from this fear that he volunteered to act as a chaperone to the event, ensuring not only his child's safety but that of her new found friends. According the final organizational meeting that had taken place the night before last, Master Bruce was to be one of five parent chaperones in addition to the teacher and her aide. Twenty children and eight adults were to navigate the Gotham Zoo in four hours, including a tour of the newly renovated dolphin exhibit as well as a round or two through the "Live Interaction" area where the children would be able to feed and lavish goats, sheep, deer and other small furry creatures.

A joyous day for the children. A living nightmare for the adults.

Master Bruce had been exuding an uncanny certainty that he would surely be able to handle any possible scenario that could arise. In fact, he was almost a little too sure of his capabilities. I had made several attempts in the last week to speak with him about my concerns, but his schedule had been fairly busy of late, involving both day and night activities. Finally, I had been able to speak with Ms. Selina and she too felt the same way. However, she was far too amused by his self-assurance that she was letting it slide for the time being. And she had labored at length that, "Nothing will convince Bruce faster not to inquire as to if we should have more children than him spending a day with more than a dozen of them."

Once we had entered the kitchen, I assigned Miss Mattie the task of feeding the four-footed members of the family while I went about preparing for breakfast. Master Bruce, once more adopting a rigorous diet, was currently eating two cups of plain yogurt, a slice of wheat toast, with no dressings, and as always, a large serving of black coffee. Ms. Selina had taken to a similar meal plan, although slightly altered. A cup of yogurt topped with colored sprinkles, a peanut butter dressed bagel as well as one of many flavored coffees she had ordered from Boston, mixed with a spoonful of cream. And their child of course would plead for waffles whenever she could muster.

While toasting bread and Ms. Selina's bagel, the young girl returned from feeding the cats, both of which were devouring their meal without mercy. She retrieved a small stool from under the cupboard under the sink and set it as close to the sink as possible. I watched on as she carefully stepped up onto it and proceeded to wash her hands. As she spread sudsy froth all over the stainless steel sink, she asked, "Alfred, did you make Dad a lunch too?"

After allowing myself a quick smile, I nodded, "I did so. However, we must remind him to take it with him."

"Yep. If he forgot it, he'd be pretty hungry later."

She rinsed thoroughly, did her best to get the bubbles to flow down the drain and then stepped back onto the floor. She was about to wipe her hands on her pants when I stepped forward, offering a hand towel. She thanked me and wiped her hands quickly before handing it back and tending to put the stool away.

Not a minute later, both of her parents' voices could be heard in the hall outside the kitchen. Master Bruce's voice came through the all softly and lacking the grim tones he often expressed in the morning. In fact, I detected a hint of enthusiasm. I asked Miss Mattie to lead them to the nook and she did so, skipping out through the door.

As they seated themselves at the small table, I paused and then carried in a small tray with two cups of coffee and one small glass of orange juice. I set the beverages before their respected drinkers, I silently took in each of their moods. Master Bruce actually seemed to be fairly awake, as he asked his daughter, "So, do we have to take anyone in our car with us to the zoo?"

After setting her juice glass down, she shook her head, "Nope, we're not riding in the car dad."

"Oh?" he asked while retrieving the folded newspaper I had set out on the table earlier that morning.

It was as he skimmed the front page that she continued, "We get to ride on the school bus."

I had barely been able to hide my smirk and the repress my need to chuckle. Ms. Selina however let loose a full grin and did her best to hide it by calling over one of the cats that had followed me from the kitchen.

"Well, that sounds fun," Master Bruce commented as he returned his attention back to the newspaper.

As I made my way back to the kitchen to retrieve their meals, I allowed myself a smile. In all of his life, even as a child, Master Bruce had never had the luxury of spending any time on a school bus. When he was in school, his parents had driven him and after they had passed on, I had taken him to school. And naturally, the very second he had a driver's license, he refused my services and went on the open road on his own. The very thought of him, a grown man, being trapped on a bus full of children for the forty-five minute drive from Bristol to the Gotham Zoo was almost too good to be true.

While Ms. Selina went about making sure Miss Mattie had the necessities of life packed away in her backpack, Master Bruce came into the kitchen and opened one of the upper cupboard doors. After reaching inside, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he retrieved a small orange plastic vial and a still packaged inhaler. He might not be able to wear his trusted utility belt, but there was no excuse for him not be prepared for the worst.

As he checked the amount of tablets and inhalers left, I cleared my throat and went about wiping the countertop, "The weather is nearly perfect for the day."

He nodded slightly and shut the cupboard after pocketing the medicine, "I suppose."

"After all, "I continued, "If it were much warmer, then the children may have been inclined to be a bit cranky, so to speak."

With a face exuding confidence, he glanced at me briefly, acted as if he were going to reply, but in turn asked where the lunches were.

A crack in his armor.

I prayed the tiny tyrants did not spot it as easily as I had.

As I retrieved the bagged meals from the refrigerator, the ladies of the household made their entrance. The younger of the two skipped over to her father and asked quietly, "Are we leaving soon?"

He nodded at her, "Right now actually. Is everything set?" he asked looking up to his wife's face.

After her nod of approval he stepped closer to her and kissed her cheek, "We'll be back around six."

"Sure you will," she muttered before leaning down to say good-bye to her daughter, "Have fun, Mattie. Make sure Dad behaves himself."

"I will," she replied matter-of-factly. When the child turned to follow her father out the side entrance into the garage, "Bye Alfred!"

"Enjoy your outing, Miss Mattie."

From the open doorway, Ms. Selina and myself watched as Master Bruce belted the child in the back seat of a silver sedan and then as he seated himself in the front. After activating the garage door, he backed out flawlessly, turned around and made his way down the drive.

"He has no idea what he's gotten himself into," she spoke with a curious smile, "His own five-year-old, no sweat. But nineteen of her peers..."

There was little I could say at that moment. I, as a father figure, and his own wife had sent him into battle with no warning as to what was to come. As the Batman, he had faced moments of great pressure and chaos. As Bruce Wayne, a fraction so. I feared he would need both of his identities in order to survive the whining, pinching, running, and yelling chaos that was sure to come.

"God be with you, Master Bruce."

Ms. Selina sighed as well, "Amen," before we both let ourselves over to the laughter we had been bottling up for weeks.

V

"It lives," I smiled as I sat on the couch watching the tail end of Good Morning Gotham.

I watched as Cassandra, clad in blue flannel pants and a green tank top, tried to pat down her pillow-skewed hair. She had been catching up on the sleep she had lost over the last few months, as well as in spite of trying to get back into the swing of things.

She plopped on the couch next to me and suppressed a yawn before looking towards the kitchen. Before she could ask, I answered, "There are bagels in the bread box and frozen waffles in the fridge."

Cassandra nodded and then looked over at me, "So... Been up long?"

I shrugged and reached for the remote, turned the TV off and then said, "Since eight. Actually got to bed around three, Bruce called it quits a little after that, "I smiled, "Had to rest up for the field trip."

After moving on the couch, bringing her legs up and hugging them against her chest, she nodded, "The zoo. That all day long?"

"Yeah. Bruce should be pretty fried from it. It should be interesting if he even makes it until tonight." I paused a moment before reaching over and patting her arm, "Hey, where are those pictures you developed yesterday?"

"Selina has them, when I left the other day, she hadn't finished looking through them yet. I'm going back tomorrow, I'll get them for you."

I nodded and the said, "At least the weather was nice for you, I went to Paris in high school and it rained the whole week we were there. Did you have a lot of free time?" I asked. We hadn't been able to talk much since she had gotten home, our schedules both keeping us fairly busy. Therefore, I wasn't about to let our apparently free morning be put to waste.

"Not much. Kept pretty busy with Henri and the dojo. Went to the Louvre once."

"Did you like it?"

She shrugged, "I guess. Stood in line a lot, paintings were nice."

I paused and then smiled softly, "Well, at least you had fun with Henri."

That elicited a near invisible change in her posture, her fatigue and boredom being shadowed by a hint of happiness. We had talked on and off through the summer and each time she was eager to share what new things she had learned form the French manhunter. I was almost tempted to call him up myself to see if he was as impressed by her as she was of him. Cassandra, in her short career in crime fighting, had now encountered two of the best in their fields that had also taught a young Bruce Wayne: Henri Ducard and Lady Shiva.

Both interactions she had come out alive and better for it.

Cassandra replied, "Yeah. He's a good teacher. Said he was pleased to see another protégé seek him out. You ever meet him?"

"Only through what Bruce has told me, and now you. Seems like an interesting enough character," I moved off of the couch and into my chair, "Well, what kind of girl talk is this, we need some guilty pleasure food."

She followed me into the kitchen and helped prepare breakfast. Usually, she would fend for herself or gladly take whatever meals I prepared for us, but rarely had she and I been involved in mass production of frozen waffles. I don't know if it was the time away from Gotham or even from Batgirl, but she seemed much more mature, and almost at peace with herself. Like she could take anything on and have no problem coming out victorious.

A half hour later, over waffles and milkshakes, she asked, "So, what's with you and him?"

"Him?"

She rolled her eyes and slurped the rest of her milkshake, "Detective... Boy Wonder."

I gnawed on my lower lip briefly and then "I guess okay. We've at least talked to each other a few times. Without resorting to violence, I might add," I paused and looked over at her, "So, Miss Social Bunny, what about you?"

Her eyes widened, "Me?" I nodded slowly before she answered, "Nothing, no time."

"Ha, that's a lie," even though it was a stretch and hardly my place to say it, I did, "You know Tim's not seeing anyone now. As far as I know anyway."

She stood and put her dishes in the sink, rinsed them thoroughly and then after wiping her hands on a towel, she replied, "So, what does that have to do with me?"

I shrugged and brought my dishes over as well, "All I'm saying is he has a lot of free time, I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you, that is if you could manage some free time in your busy schedule."

With an embarrassed scowl on her face, Cassandra walked by me and out of the room. I followed and called out her name but she kept going, reached her room and slammed the door after her.

I went back to the kitchen and picked up from breakfast. Perhaps I had pushed it with her, but it was so hard to tell where the line was and when not to cross it. She had such a terrible youth and her adolescence could hardly be counted as normal. Even after talking with her extensively, she had refused to go beyond taking her General Equivalency Diploma exam and a few college courses online. After talking with Bruce, he felt that her interests lay elsewhere and that she should peruse them. Hence the arrangements he made for her jaunt around Europe.

I went about cleaning the apartment for the rest of the afternoon. After several "Trading Spaces" marathons, I had finally decided to redo the entire place. That and I had been bored to tears by living alone again. I had gone for the pure look of white: walls, carpeting and even the furniture. Perhaps I had gone too far, but it looked amazing, especially in light of my freakish cleaning habits. I even made the boys wipe their feet before coming in.

Just as I was vacuuming the rugs, Cass appeared again, dressed in spandex. She tried to talk over the noise but instead pointed down the hall towards the enclosed training room. I gave her the okay sign and went back to work.

It was almost scary how much her determination reminded me of Bruce.

And it scared me even more that if nothing was done, in a few years it would be Batgirl with Cassandra Cain as the alter ego, just as it was with Batman.

If nothing was done...

V

It began as we left the garage.

Selina and Alfred had been staring at me, sly smiles on their faces as I backed out and then turned to drive off. Then Alfred had spoken softly, and they had erupted in laughter. Odd, I thought, what could they have possibly found to be so funny.

Then, it continued at the school parking lot.

We had parked amidst several dozen station wagons, mini-vans and SUVs, all strangely similar hues of blue and green. Mattie was unbuckled and out of the car in a flash, her back pack bouncing as she jumped around to my side of the car. I stepped out and locked up before smoothing out my shirt and pocketing my keys. Mattie was at my side, pulling at my arm, "Dad, let's go!"

I told her we weren't late and allowed her to lead me over to the Bristol City School District bus parked in front of the main entrance to the elementary school. I heard them long before they came into view. Looking through the tinted windows, I spotted over a dozen small faces pressed against the glass, sticking their tongues out and making a wide variety of grotesque faces at one another and myself, all the while a dull roar of squeals and laughter erupting from the yellow bus. Mattie waved at them energetically and then lead me around the front of the bus. Several parents, those not involved with chaperoning the trip, were checking in with the teacher and handing over white envelopes labeled with names of children and dollar amounts. Interesting. Perhaps spending money for the trip.

As we came over, Mattie's teacher's assistant, Ms. Kallie, grinned, "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you made it. Hi Mattie, are you ready to go to the zoo?"

She nodded exuberantly and let go of my hand. I reached for it before she got far and heard her sigh as I pulled her back. I looked down at the clipboard Ms. Kallie was holding and recognized a written out seating chart. "So, where would you like us?"

She glanced at the chart and pointed to two seats labeled "WAYNE" in the third and fourth to last rows on the right side of the bus. I nodded and said, "Okay" and then followed my daughter in through the side door and up the three narrow steps. Nearly every seat was filled, one child per seat, with several chaperones placed strategically throughout. Mattie waved to a few of the girls that cried out her name and said, "This is my dad." While we managed our way through the row between the seats, barely wide enough for a child let alone a man of my size, I caught the other chaperones watching me carefully. I nodded at a few and offered an unheard "good morning" as their badly shadowed eyes stared at me.

Selina had joked from the start that I was going to be the only male adult on the trip and that I had to promise not to try and let any of the bored housewives seduce me, and vice versa. At first I found no humor of it, but as I notice their stares traveling up and down my body, I told Mattie to hurry up so we could take our seats.

Our presence had also affected the children. Most of the young girls had been taken by the fact that their friend had arrived but the young boys looked at my in what I could only describe as disgust. Despite the fact that the noise was near unbearable, I distinctly over heard an "I thought Mrs. W was coming... He'll be boring."

I wanted to search the bus for the perp but Mattie had declared that she wanted an the further back seat so she could talk to Katrina, who was in the row behind her. I relented and took the seat that was cater-cornered to a red-haired chaperone sporting an ankle length khaki skirt and a slate blue blouse. She glanced back at me, blushed and then looked away. I leaned forward in my seat, "Hi, Bruce Wayne."

"I know," she said as she turned to face me, "Emily Buckhout, I'm Janet's mom."

"Ah," I said, with no clue who Janet was. I offered my hand, she paused and then finally decided to shake it. "So, is everyone here?"

She nodded, "Yeah I think so, Sara and Kallie will be getting on once all the parents hand over their kids' lunch money."

My eyes grew and I muttered, "Oh, no."

"What?" she asked.

I looked back at the car and spotted the two lunch bags in the front passenger seat. I almost cursed, but chose not to in light of present company. Emily looked over as well and shrugged, "That's okay, they have a restaurant at the zoo."

After I said, "Right," and nodded to myself I noticed as the teacher and her aide climbed aboard and reminded everyone to be quiet and that there were to be no pushing each other's head's out the windows.

From there, it became clear that they obviously did not screen the drivers of buses for ability to operate a motor vehicle of any type. The man in the driver's seat, who had not been on when I had boarded the bus, shifted poorly, slammed on the breaks at stop signs and floored the accelerator around sharp turns. But shortly after I realized that we very well may crash and die long before reaching the zoo, I soon became aware of the fact that my eardrums and quite possibly my brain may implode even before a car accident.

The quiet the teacher had asked for had lasted all of five seconds, and then once in motion, the noise had increased so to conquer the growl of the bus's diesel engine. After our first turn out of the parking lot, I looked back at Mattie and told her to put her seat belt on.

She rolled her eyes, a characteristic from her mother, and said that there weren't any. And as I looked throughout my seat, I realized the same as well. So for the forty-nine minutes we were at the mercy of the driver and fighting and screaming of the children, there was no means of protection. Shouldn't the kids be sitting quietly, looking out the windows and admiring the city infrastructure as they're driving over it?

But it didn't stop there.

Upon arriving at the main entrance of the zoo, each chaperone was paired with another were assigned eight kids and were then handed over that child's money envelope. There was also a list of activities and maps of the zoo, not to mention the emergency contact numbers of said children as well as the teachers in charge of the trip. I did not end up with Emily, but rather a thirty-year-old mother named Janice who confessed "I had this huge thing for you back in college."

We were to be in charge of Mattie, Katrina, David, Paul, Alexis, Karen, Samuel and James. Four boys, four girls, everyone having a "buddy" of whom they were not to lose sight of. Before I had even had the chance to memorize each of their faces, they ran off towards the llama petting exhibit. I called after them and began to trot to keep up but Janice, my accompanying chaperone laughed, "Oh, don't bother, you'll never keep up with them."

Of the three hundred and seventeen animals at the zoo, we had breezed by about three hundred by noon, the kids squealing at the scary ones and cooing over the cute ones. I had to physically pry Samuel off of the fence of the bear exhibit twice in less than five minutes, just because he wanted to ask him if he knew Yogi. Janice had hardly been of any assistance and spent most of the time on her cell phone and doing her best not to keep up with the group.

Whether it was exhaustion from acting insane or the fact that lunch was approaching, I managed to corral the eight members of my group around the wolf exhibit. They all started howling off tune and one of the slumbering wolves looked up from his nap and grumbled before laying back down. After they quieted, I asked, "So who can tell me the genus and species of the timber wolf?"

"A pee-cees?" Karen asked.

Alexis, a curly haired child with a deafeningly high scream, interrupted, "Reeses Pieces! Can we feed them now? I want to feed the wolf!"

I sighed and restated for the millionth time that we were not employed at the zoo so we weren't allowed to feed them. It was unreal, how little education they actually received in kindergarten. Honestly, what was finger painting compared to being able to define the ecosystems that animals habited? As the kids began complaining that they were hungry, Janice stepped into and saved the day, "How about we go eat some lunch, guys?"

They erupted in joyous cries of approval and declared how "cooler" Janice was compared to me. She told them, "All right, well we have to be real quiet so that the animals don't find out we're eating and they're not, we wouldn't want Yogi the bear to come steal our lunch would we?"

Eight heads shook in unison.

I watched in disbelief as the herd of children moved around her and traveled down the brick paved path towards the dining and recreation area of the zoo, all holding the hands of their buddies and actually behaving themselves. The woman had blatantly exaggerated, used a cartoon character as if he we one of the bears locked in the exhibit and had won their trust?

I noticed Mattie was with the group, talking with Katrina, a girl two months older and one inch shorter than my daughter. They had been best friends since before school had even started and I was already fearing slumber parties and birthday sleepovers. I was surprised to see Mattie turn and jog back to me. After she paused in front of me, she motioned me to bend down and come closer. I knelt before and she whispered into my ear, "You're still cool to me, Dad."

With that, she kissed my cheek and then ran back to her group.

When I reached to food pavilion, I scanned about for the restaurant Emily had mentioned on the bus. What I saw were three things, none of which could possibly be safe eateries: a hotdog cart, an ill tended make your own sundae bar and last but certainly not least, the golden arches of McDonald's. Janice must have already distributed the lunch money for I spotted several members of my group already stuffing their faces with greasy fries and dripping hamburgers.

Mattie was sitting at a patio table with a mass of her "girls" as Selina had dubbed them. When she spotted me, she came up and asked "Ca I get one of those?" as she pointed to a cardboard box toting James. A Happy Meal. A Happy Heart Attack Meal.

I ushered her over to the line that was quickly working its way to the cash register. The menu was terrifying, with far too many calories and saturated fats per a meal than I would ever imagine. Finally, I spotted a few salads listed and hoped they weren't all out. When my turn came up, a new register opened and was being manned by a squat, heavyset gentleman dressed in a dark polo and stained khakis. A pin on his shirt read: Jim, Manager.

When I approached, he asked, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, actually. I was wondering if I could have two fresh house salads, dress one with vinegar and touch of oil and the other with," to Mattie, "What do you want, kitten?"

She sighed, mumbled incoherently and then replied, "Itlaian."

I looked back at Jim and finished, "The other with Italian."

"We don't have any salads."

"Excuse me?"

He repeated himself laboriously and spoke in a demeaning tone that snitches often took with me. That was before I held them over a ledge fourteen stories above Grand Street. I asked if there were any soups of any kind and he sighed, "Let me guess... You want one of those healthy McMeals.... We don't have them here. No takers... Kids don't want them... And besides, adults want comfort food if they're dragged here. So order off the value meal like everyone else so everyone else can actually get up here and order."

Twelve dollars later, Mattie and I were at the sole, empty picnic table. She had ordered like a pro, the chicken nugget Happy Meal, sweet and sour sauce but I had insisted on ice water. I know of several instances where Dick had taken her out to fast food restaurants, mainly because of the toys she brought back after an afternoon with him.

I had chosen the least intense meal, a hamburger with no toppings and a cup of water as well. The fires had come with the meal but after being able to count the salt crystals, I decided they were better off left in the bag. I was just about to try the sandwich when I heard an uproar of delightful giggles. And to my absolute horror, I spotted a tall, red wigged individual in a yellow jumpsuit with big, floppy shoes.

Ronald McDonald. A clown.

Mattie jumped up and ran over and when I told her she had to finish her lunch she replied that she had. And when I looked, she had been right, all four chicken bites and every scrap of salty fry were gone.

Surprisingly, I wasn't alone for long. Three of the chaperones who had been at a neighboring table sauntered over, one of which had been Emily. She asked, "Mind if we join you?"

I smiled weakly, "It's a free picnic table."

They giggled softly and took the seats opposite of me where Mattie had left her wrappers. I moved quickly and put all of it in the bag with my fries and apologized with a shrug and "Kids."

Emily sat between the other two, the blonde to her right was Veronica, one of Mattie's fellow soccer teammate's mother, and the one to her left was younger woman with a heedful of brown ringlets that I had never met. I introduced myself and she half-smiled, "Nancy."

"Nice to meet you Nancy. So," I tried to make small talk, not something easily done, "How is everyone else's' groups doing?"

"Ha, what a kidder," Nancy snorted as she retrieved her purse. "Just grand. I love these trips."

"Me too," Veronica grinned at me, "Great time to relax. Spend quality time with the kids..."

I watched as Nancy pulled out a silver flask from her purse, "And let's not forget Captain Morgan."

The three women each took sizable swallows from the flask and when it was offered to me, I shook my head, "Uh, no thanks."

"Alcoholic?" Emily asked.

I was taken aback and after a quick breath I stuttered, "N-no, just I think I need all the wits I can manage to finish off the day."

They laughed in unison, looking at one another and then at me. Emily spoke up, "You're so nice... you should come to more of the PTA meetings, Selina too."

I nodded slightly and pushed my hamburger away, "Yeah, well work keeps me pretty busy."

"At least it's the truth with you," Veronica sighed, "My Harry comes home from work and lands himself right on the couch, and that's where he stays until dinner and then it's right back to TV."

Emily nodded, "Pete's like that too. He used to coach little league but he doesn't even have the oomph to do that anymore."

I listened in as the trio of women went on about how aggravating their husbands were, how they wouldn't listen like I did, how they wouldn't get involved with their kids like I did, and they sure as hell didn't take care of themselves as I did. Although one of the most awkward conversations I had ever had in my life, it was my only alternative to the clown. And I would take disgruntled wives over sadistic clowns any day of the week.

V

"Ah, look what the kitten dragged in," I grinned as I walked towards the main door.

Mattie, her face painted like a leopard, had her hands wrapped around Bruce's neck as he somehow managed to carry her, her backpack and two stuffed animals. I smiled to see one was a snow leopard and the other was a tiger. That's my girl, I thought, as I walked over to them.

After Bruce shut the door with his foot, he looked over at me and it was the first time I realized the exhausted look plastered over his face. Where he had left earlier that morning, bold and confident, he had most certainly returned to me a broken man. I took Mattie's belongings and told him to come upstairs with her. He nodded slowly and shuffled after me up the stairs, not even uttering a sound.

After setting her on the bed, I took his hand and lead him down the hall to our room. He headed straight for bed, collapsed in a heap. After I shut the door, I smiled as I walked over to him, "That bad?"

He had landed face down into the blankets and mumbled into the bedspread. I reclined next to him and rubbed his back, "What was that, sweetie?"

Carefully, he turned his head to face me and spoke, "Terrible."

"Oh, my poor baby," I chided with him before moving closer and wrapping my arm around his neck. He shifted and pressed his face into the crook of my neck. Having known this was coming all along, I asked, "Did the other kids pick on you?"

Bruce nodded, "Said I wasn't cool."

"I'm sorry," I kissed his cheek, "What else happened?"

He relented his tales of woe to me, recounting the day's events and how one tragedy lead to another. How the other chaperones had flirted with him, how none of the kids had liked him, how he had left his lunch in the car, and quite possibly the worst of all, the ride home with twenty tired and cranky kids and the maniacal bus driver's inability to follow basic traffic laws. And how despite all of the chaos and insanity, once they had returned to the school, the teachers congratulated all of the children for their good behavior.

"Good behavior, Selina."

"I heard you, Bruce."

"They were arsonists and felons in the making."

"I'm sure they were, Bruce."

He paused, then spoke once more, "And I didn't even get lunch."

I rubbed his back once more and then whispered in his ear, "I'll get you something to eat. Why don't you take a nice, long bath?"

"Can't move," he replied.

"Yes you can," I sat up and slapped his thigh, "You can at least change, I don't want all those zoo germs in my bed."

He moaned to himself as I got up and went to check in on Mattie. She was sitting up in bed and yawning and rubbing her eyes. I walked in and said, "Hey there, Mattie. Did you have fun?" She nodded and then quickly got up and walked over to me. I picked her up and hugged her, "I love your new face."

Mattie smiled, "It's paint, Mom. But isn't it pretty?"

"Very."

She touched her cheek carefully as to not disturb the spots or whiskers painted on her skin. Then she sighed, "I don't think Dad had a good time."

"No?" I asked, "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged and touched my hair, "I don't know. He wasn't very happy."

I set her back down on the floor and said, "Well, not many things make him happy. Why don't you go in there and cheer him up?"

After a curt nod, she skipped out into the hall and went towards our bedroom. I followed her steps and leaned against the door jam as she climbed on him and asked if he was okay. He mumbled something that might have been an answer but remained motionless. Knowing he was going to be rather difficult for the rest of the night, I walked over to the bad and sat beside him once more. Mattie, who had taken to sitting on his back, looked over at me, "See, not happy."

As a pout came to her face, accented by the cat markings, I told her to get washed up and ready for dinner. She asked, "Do I have to wash my face?"

I told her just around her mouth for now and that's we wash it off later when she had a bath. After a longing look at her father, Mattie rolled off of the bed and trudged back to her room. His eyes were closed, but too tightly, indicating that he wasn't asleep but instead pretending to. "Are you at least going to shower?"

He grumbled softly. When he repeated it after I asked him to, it sounded like, "Sponge bath."

Although reveling in his pain and misery was a favorite of mine, I decided to show pity on him for a change. I picked out a pair of flannel pants from the dresser, conned him into changing and promised to come up later with something to eat. Then, I tucked him into bed and kissed his cheek before leaving the room. At the door, I heard a faint request for me to leave it ajar.

Poor baby.

After dinner and dessert, of which Mattie and I shared a bowl of ice cream in the den, I told her to head to her room to pick out pajamas and something to wear for the next day. On my way to our room, Alfred came over the top step of the stairway and spoke, "Madam, Ms. Gordon is calling for Master Bruce, in question as to whether or not he intends to 'suit up' or not." In his right hand he held the white portable phone from the library.

I walked over and took it from him, "Thanks Alfred."

"And if there won't be anything else..."

After shaking my head I leaned and pecked his cheek, "I think we'll manage. Good night."

"Good night, madam."

After watching him head down the stairs, I continued to my bedroom and peered in before answering the phone, "Barb?"

"Hi, how did the great initiative field trip go?"

"Excellent, I don't think I've seen Mattie this happy in a long time."

I waited for her to ask the inevitable question, "How did Bruce take it?"

I walked into the room and turned on the bedside lamp before sitting next to Bruce's still form. He was on his side facing away from me, completely buried beneath the covers. "Well, I think he learned something today... Perhaps from the camels."

"What, how to spit?"

With a soft smile, I replied, "No, that when scared for your life, bury your head in the sand and hope for the best."

She laughed loudly, "Poor guy. So I take it as a negative that the big bad Bat will be gracing his presence all over the city tonight?"

"Barbara, I think we'll be lucky if he ever leaves this house again. You should have seen him come through the door tonight. It was if all of his strength and power had been sucked out of him, and all that was left was a fragile shell, just waiting for the next spitball to hit him."

He mumbled into the pillows, "No running.... And it's species.... Not Reeses..."

V

"Oh, that's too funny, Barbara," I chuckled into the phone.

Since I was the nice guy that I was, I had pulled a double shift in order to cover for one of the detectives in the third shift. Unfortunately, my good deed had shut out any possibility of showing myself as Nightwing for the night.

Since most of the night's activities had been bland, if not dull, Barbara's six a.m. call had been an uplifting event for me. Mattie's first field trip had turned out as expected: with Mattie wanting to ride the bus to school all the time and Bruce adding all district bus drivers to his list of future criminals to keep an eye out for.

As I leaned back in my chair, I sighed, "You know, he never had time for any of my field trips. Always had to go to work or golfing with the Mayor. Hell, even Alfred couldn't go on any of them."

Barbara replied, "Well, that may be true Dick, but look on the bright side. How many kids at Bristol Middle School knew the best way to disarm multiple suspects with their arms tied behind their backs and with a blindfold on?"

"True. Even still, he could've come to the chocolate factory trip...." I grumbled.

I heard a tone come over the phone and told her I had another call. She signed off with, "Fine, be productive, see if I care."

After selecting the other line, I jotted down the basics from dispatch: dead body reported in the alley behind 1013 Wellington Avenue. So much for thoroughness. With Trey long gone, I paired up with Detective Charles Camden and let him drive us out to the scene. It had been raining for a vast majority of the week but the last two days had been especially cold, even for mid-October. Camden joked how we were probably going to catch cold that night, all over some boozehound laid out in the alley.

If only...

The first thing my eyes detected as we pulled up to the taped off scene was red. A bright red rain slicker on a small body, some sort of vinyl from the way it reflected the flashing lights of the black-and-whites. Sans umbrella, I walked closer, ducked under the tape after presenting my badge to the uniform on duty. It wouldn't be long before the locals came out to gawk at the d.b. And even after that, the reporters and their cameramen, all hoping to catch a glimpse of death.

The red slicker did little in way of keeping out the cold rain. As she laid out on the pavement, her head tilted to the right as she rested on her hip, legs bent and lying one over the other, the rain bore down on her just as it did to me. I flipped my collar up and crouched next to her, my eyes never leaving her face.

A dead body in the alley behind 1013 Wellington.

I had spent a vast majority of my life looking at dead bodies, far too many if you asked me, but for some reason, I simply couldn't look away. Her cheeks were full, her skin dark and smooth. The braid in her hair with thick, each ending in brightly colored barrettes. Beneath the raincoat, she wore a green turtleneck over faded jeans, all of it soaked through to the skin.

"Grayson?" I looked up to see Camden standing behind me, "They need to get some more shots of her."

"Right," I nodded and stood before moving out of camera range. The flash came in slow motion, highlighting every feature about her, but doing little to blot out the cold, gray morning air of the alley. It was from above, I saw the whole picture. A book bag was mere inches from her, bulky and made of dark denim. Two buttons were on the front of it: "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and one with a Wonder Woman insignia on it.

As the photographer used up the rest of his film, I took mental pictures of the immediate area. Somewhat secluded, the overhead light well over two stories up, hardly any use with the sun buried beneath the clouds. Camden waited for the bag to photographed before picking it up with a gloved hand, "Damn things weighs a ton."

Inside, were two sodden books, one a fiction children's novel and the other was on dollhouses. In a zippered pocket, we found a few quarters, some gum and a small plastic cosmetic kit. And a library card.

Alicia Renee Wallach.

Eleven years old.

Never to be twelve.

As the rain continued to pelt down on us, and as it further destroyed whatever physical evidence there was, I couldn't feel much else besides the cold. We canvassed the alley a dozen times, finding litter and stray cats, but nothing in the way of leading us to the killer. Outdoor crimes were common, but also frustrating. There was little a homicide detective could do in light of Mother Nature. Even as Camden and I coordinated the door-to-doors and followed the van to the coroner's. It had settled deep within my bones, unwilling to subside.

Shortly after eight-thirty in the morning, I managed to remain professional, to remain in character at playing the solemn detective knocking on the door of Alicia's former residence, introducing myself as a member of the homicide unit. Doing my best to keep that quiet façade as the mother burst into tears, wailing to God, "My baby!"

My second shift officially ended at eight, but as the afternoon rolled around I found myself at my desk, going through the preliminary evidence as well as what little information the family had provided. Over scalding, retched coffee, I reread my notes before typing them up.

Alicia had been missing for nearly two days after going to the library after school. She had initially planned on meeting a fellow classmate there but the other child had failed to show so Alicia had checked out two books, both of which were due back by October 30th. Usually, Alicia went to the library with her older sister, but had occasionally walked the six blocks by herself, but rarely.

And the one time she did...

Missing Persons had faxed all of its paperwork to me shortly after making the request at a little after two in the morning. By then, the mood from the day before had all but vanished. Detectives were laboring over paperwork or phoning all possible resources. Not a single one was holed up in the break room, yukking it up. In fact, nearly every detective from the second shift had stayed over well into the next, either in the office or out on the street.

There was something about when a child was killed in the city of Bludhaven. A drug dealer gets whacked or a mob goon gets it or even if some old lady buys it by drowning in the tub, none of it compares to an eleven year old body laid out in a cold, damp, alley.

"Refill, Grayson?"

I looked up to see the face of Dan "The Big Man" Harden. On h is third wife now, it wasn't an odd occurrence to see him randomly enter the room, especially on time off. He reminded my of less frightening version of Bane, well over six foot with the bulk of his two-hundred and fifty pound frame in his torso. His hair was dark and shaggy on top with graying sideburns that ended with the lobes of his ears. In a good mood, he would joke about his "skunk hairdo" but with a bad mood, it was best to stick to business.

He offered me a fresh cup of coffee, "How long you been here?" I asked.

"Little over an hour. How about you?"

I leaned back in the chair, just as I had done while talking to Barbara earlier. After glancing at my watch, my eyes widened slightly, "Almost eighteen hours."

He nodded. Most detectives would have patted me on the shoulder and told me to go home and rest. But not Dan. On my very first redball case, one that had surely stumped me for good, he had been pleased to watch from a distance as I worked my way through it. Since then, he had done nothing to harbor my inability to back down, if anything, he had fed it.

Guzzling the coffee barely gave me the sense of rejuvenation that I desperately needed. I picked up the empty mug and made my way to the break room. Perhaps a splash of cold water on my face would do the trick. On my way, I paused at the Board and looked over it until I found my name. For the first time in as long as I could remember, one of my cases was listed in red ink.

Open to investigation.

Open to be solved.

Unsolved.

Unsolvable.

V

Let the fun begin...

Next chapter up shortly (as long as post-midterm trauma doesn't take effect on me)


	6. One And Only: VI

Title: One And Only: VI  
  
Author: D C Luder  
  
Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?  
  
Rating: PG 13 for language  
  
Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.  
  
Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

AN 2: Well what do you, know? Another memorable scene from Chris, yeah for awkward, silly, sexy, soapy moments between sidekicks!

V

Happy Halloween!

V

Dad was late.

Alfred had dropped me off at my riding lesson at four, I rode for an hour and Dad was supposed to be there at five to pick me up. As I looked at my blue watch, it read a little before six. At first, I thought he had forgotten, since we had to move my lesson to Friday instead of Thursday, but I remembered Alfred had reminded him at breakfast.

Janet, my instructor had called home and Dad's cell phone but no one was answering. I knew Mom couldn't come get me because she was on a trip for the week to look at some big cats that needed a new home and wouldn't be getting home until later that night. I couldn't wait for her to have the preserve done, she said I would get to come and visit all of the cats every weekend and if there were any baby ones I would probably get to hold them.

That was if Dad ever showed up to take me home.

"Mattie?" I heard Janet's voice from behind me.

I was sitting out on the front fence that was between the parking lot and a small paddock. At first, I was going to sit on the grass but Alfred didn't like it when I got my Jodhpur pants dirty, especially grass stains. She walked over as she pulled on a sweater, "Hey kiddo, your Dad just called, he said he'll be here in a few minutes."

After biting my lip, I nodded and looked down at my feet.

The wind blew a few leaves across the ground, Janet reached over and tugged on my sleeve, "Hey, why don't we go inside, get some hot cocoa?"

Even though I shrugged, I slipped off of the top rail and hopped to the ground. Back in the barn, I followed her to the lounge that looked into the indoor arena. A few of the older girls were warming up over jumps and I sat on a stool next to the window.

I wanted to jump. Janet said maybe next spring. Mom was really happy about how good I was getting. Dad thought it would be best if I stayed on the ground, let alone on the back of a pony. I asked for a pony for a Christmas and had been asking since last summer, but I didn't think it would happen. I was hardly able to get a kitten, let alone a horse.

When Janet handed me the cup, the phone rang and she crossed the room and answered it. I ate all of the marshmallows first, and then drank the entire cup while watching the jumpers. With my cocoa gone, I looked over to see Janet was still on the phone and Dad still hadn't come. Over the summer, whenever he had to pick me up from soccer practice, he would be late. Mom said he always had trouble getting away from work. Still, he should be there. I was always the last one waiting after lessons or practice. And my coach or Janet would have to watch me, and they always looked sad. And then Dad would show up, apologize and we would head home.

Just as I was about to ask for some more cocoa, I heard a car pulling up the drive. I hopped off the stool and threw my cup in the trashcan before heading out to see who it was. After leaving the lounge, I walked to the end of the barn and stepped back out to the front drive. Sure enough, it was him.

I stood just outside the door and looked over as he got out and walked towards me. He was on his cell phone, talking quietly and when he saw me, he offered a slight smile and talked into the phone, "Right, let me call you back later," and then hung up. He leaned over and held out his hand, of which I didn't take. He sighed and walked alongside me as we went to the car, "How was Rocky?"

"Rusty," I corrected him quietly.

"Sorry," he said before opening the back door for me. After we were both in and buckled, he turned around and drove off, "So how was he?"

"Fine." I was looking down at my lap, doing my best to avoid his eyes as they reflected in the mirror.

Just as we turned up the drive to home, his phone rang and he answered and talked quietly as he drove. I tried to listen in, found it boring and decided to study my shoelaces some more. That was when Dad handed back his phone, "Here, kitten, it's Aunt Barbara."

I nearly jumped out of my seat, only the belt holding me back, and took the phone. The very second it was near my face I said, "Hi!"

She replied, "Hi Mattie, ready for some Trick or Treating?"

"Yeah!" I bounced on the seat a bit and then looked up to see Dad's reaction. I smiled to see him offering his own slight smirk. "I have my costume all ready."

"That's great. Still the same as what we picked out?"

I pictured the matching cape and boots that were in my room, "Yep."

"Well, I'll be up around seven-thirty and then we can hit every house in Bristol."

"Is Dick coming?" I asked. I hadn't seen him since shortly after I started school and we had never missed a Halloween together.

She paused, "No, he has to work, hon. But we'll have to get candy for him, since he can't come. But Cass will be coming with us, so it will be a girl's night out."

"Okay," I said quietly.

She reminded me to make sure I had a coat for when it got colder later and to save room for sweets after dinner. I said I would and then gave the phone back to Dad. He went to speak into it and then hung up, "Hmm, so when is she coming up?"

"Seven-thirty."

Mom, Barbara and I had picked out my costume two weeks earlier and had not let anyone else know about it. Even Dad and Alfred. Mom said it would be funnier if it was a surprise, although I didn't see why. She said she was going to do my hair when she got home, and make sure everything looked super for the night.

After all, there were Laffy Taffy bars out there in need of a good chewing.

V

As I put fresh film in my camera, Alfred walked over to me and offered a mug of steaming cider, "Dr. Thompkins."

"Thanks, a bit chilly in here, don't you think?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Not in the least. Last I checked the thermostat was hovering just above the sixty-six degree mark."

"Like I said, chilly." The cider, as always, was perfectly spiced. I took two long sips and then held the cup close beneath my chin, allowing the vapors to rise over my face. Jim, who was seated across from me on a small leather chair, smirked a bit but did not comment, and went to work on his coffee.

We were in the den, awaiting for Mattie's spectacular presentation of her Halloween costume. Barbara and Bruce were down in the "finished basement", working on some processor or program that had gone haywire in his computer systems. She had joked that if we saw smoke coming from behind the clock or heard them cursing at each other to just ignore it. Two determined minds such as theirs rarely got along for lengthy periods, but could accomplish great things in brief sessions.

After all, Bruce had never played well with others.

"Speak of the devil," I murmured as Bruce and Barbara appeared at the doorway, engrossed in some sort of discussion. Alfred, who had taken a seat beside me on the couch, harrumphed quietly to himself and lifted his own cider to his lips. Not wanting to discuss techno-babble that was most likely coursing through both of their minds, I spoke just as Bruce took a seat towards the door, "So, you going out with Mattie tonight?"

"Me?" he asked.

I nodded just before Barbara asked "What, still not ready to be around large groups of small children?"

Despite the fact that Alfred, Jim, Barbara and myself shared a hearty laugh, Bruce failed to see the humor in it. In fact, the look that washed over his face reminded me of one I had seen countless times, half-covered by a black cowl. He had tried to keep the zoo trip misfortunes from leaving the walls of Wayne Manor, but once Selina had called Barbara and Alfred had called me, it was too late. Within an hour of his return from the torturous trip, we all were giggling at the chaos that had been Bruce and Mattie's first field trip.

When a small silence had settled and we all had realized that we weren't going to be able to ruffle Bruce's feathers from that angle, Jim decided to be the first to break it, "So I hear Dick's got his hands full over in Bludhaven."

Barbara nodded, "Yeah, the Wallach case. I've haven't talked with him since last week."

I asked, "Any progress?"

She shrugged, "He didn't really want to get into it."

I looked to Bruce, noticing that his face had changed even more, from grim to solemn, "Have you heard anything, Bruce?"

His head shake was slight and his voice was quiet, "Only what I've read in the papers."

"Damn shame," Jim sighed as he set his coffee mug down on the end table, "That case has redball written all over it." He coughed a bit and continued, "But I'm sure Dick will get to the bottom of it. He's a natural for detective work."

I nodded, "Thanks to his wayward mentor."

Bruce looked over at me, his lip quivered in a brief half-smirk and his eye brows a quarter of an inch higher than usual. A look of surprise. Before he could say anything, I heard Selina's voice from the hall, "Are we ready?"

After setting my cider down and I picked up my camera and activated the flash before I scooted over to the middle of the room. Since Bruce had been like a son to me all these years, I had taken to lavishing Mattie just as if she were my grandchild. My office at the clinic was layered in pictures of her from soccer, horse riding, and of course, plenty of Halloween nights and Christmas mornings.

Selina stepped into the room and stepped to the side, allowing for her daughter to make her grand entrance. As tradition, we never knew what she was going to dress up as, but this year, even Bruce had been kept in the dark. I had taken Selina aside when I had arrived that night and she promised me it would put a smile on my face and would most likely put Bruce into heart failure.

"Oh, my," Alfred muttered as Mattie walked in.

With her hair straightened and wetted down, it shocked me how closely she resembled her costumed influence. Sporting bright red vinyl boots, an ankle length red cape and blue spandex emblazoned with a stylized S, Mattie Elizabeth Wayne, the daughter of Batman and Catwoman, was the exact spitting image of a miniaturized Superman. After centering herself in the room, she stood poised, put her hands on her hips and looked up to the ceiling.

Barbara was on the verge of a giggling fit as was her father.

Alfred, always the gentleman, told her "she made a very lovely Kryptonian."

Bruce stared in absolute disbelief, his eyes darting back and forth between his daughter and his wife.

After I snapped a few shots of her in the stolid pose, I heard Bruce begin to stammer incoherently. Which was only fueled as Mattie skipped over to him, flapping her cape. She paused before him and held her arms up. When he stared down at her, dumbfounded, she proceeded to grab on to his forearms, "Dad, make me fly."

He lifted her, effortlessly, and continued to stare.

Selina approached him and set a hand on his shoulder, "What do you think, hon?"

All he could manage was a few rapid blinks.

I stepped forward, "I think it's great. Where did you find it?"

She replied, "There is a small children's costume shop in the Denmar Building, on the same floor as that custom jewelers. I had gone in to drop off my rings for cleaning and right in the display window was the costume. Mattie picked it out herself, didn't you kiddo?"

The child nodded exuberantly, "Dad, isn't it cool?"

"Yeah," he finally spoke, "Right." He set her back down on the floor and shot a glance to the doorway. I looked as well, wondering if Superman himself was out there, waiting to laugh at Bruce's misfortune.

After a few more pictures and few inside jokes, Mattie, Barbara, Cassandra and Selina were off for a girl's night of trick-or-treating. Jim left shortly after, and I nearly laughed as he spoke to Bruce while shaking his hand, "Damn shame. Maybe next year she'll take on the pointy ears."

V

Surprisingly, Gotham had survived All Hollow's Eve well. I recalled countless nights back in my early days in the city, long before I had ranked as a commissioner, where the death toll doubled and vandalism was a joke.

It was November first that did the city in that year. Or at least it did me in.

Harvey Bullock and I had been sitting in an unmarked, just at the corner of 18th and Harrison. Even though night had fallen and it was well past breakfast, we had taken a late dinner courtesy of Dunkin Donuts: fresh, steaming coffee and a box of orange frosted doughnuts that were not so fresh, but at least they were festive. Harvey had eaten three by the time I had managed one.

"Sonofabitch," he growled, crumbs tripping out of his mouth.

I looked in the same direction as he and stared in disbelief as a young man, dressed for the cold weather with a bulky denim coat and low hanging pants, approached a woman who was standing at the bus stop and chatting on her cell phone. In less than a second, he stared at us, in the obvious unmarked police car, at our doughnuts, coffee, and the rest of our police-esque aura, and then proceeded to bump into the woman and snag her purse.

Neglecting our meal, we dashed out of the car in an instant and raced across the street. Harvey growled, "Dip shit would need to go to college to graduate to dumb shit."

The woman had begun to scream for help even though she was no longer in any danger. The same could not be said for her brown suede purse, most likely heavy with that week's paycheck and a few choice credit cards. She took a step back as we raced towards her, and Harvey only scared her even more by barking that we were with the GCPD in a tone just a hair shy of Kodiak grizzly bear.

The denim man had scooted down 18th with an amazing quickness. Despite the bad knee and sore feet, I pushed into the run, doing everything I could to keep the man in my line of vision. Harvey, light years from his physical prime, was already breathing heavy as we passed the first block.

I sure hoped he didn't keel over, because I sure as hell wouldn't have the wind left to give him CPR.

The streets were fairly bare, given the cold weather and the late hour. Unfortunately, this only allowed the suspect to move faster down the unblocked sidewalk, putting more and more distance between us. My heart had been doing a million miles an minute for five blocks, and I was almost certain it would explode with the next step I took.

Before I knew it, we were on 24th, miles and miles from the car and lady with the cell phone. In fact, it had to have been at least month or two that we had been running after this denim clad perp. If not longer. Foot traffic had picked up a bit as we neared a region of restaurants and shopping boutiques. Several cried out as the suspect dashed through them and ran away. Most of them stared at Harvey and I as we lamely traveled through, breathing ragged and holding onto one another to keep from falling down.

The last I saw of him, he had ducked into an alley just beyond Grant, after turning left and nearly being hit by a taxi. I had half-heartedly hoped he would have been hit, just to make my life easier.

Who was I kidding? I whole-heartedly wanted the sucker to get hit.

As we entered the alley, our breaths escaping us in puffy gasps into the cool night air, I did my best to call out, "Freeze, GCPD!"

It came out more like, "Free-zzee... Gee... Cee... Pee... Deee..."

Harvey had lost all sources of intimidation and was leaning against the brick exterior of Oren's Café and Deli, his face an unnatural shade of red. As I thought how nice it would be to lay down and die, I looked into the dark recesses of the alley to see... nothing. A small garbage dumpster, a few empty wooden crates and a set of stairs leading to the service entrance of the deli. I scanned feverishly, hoping for something and ending up with nothing. There wasn't even the infamous chain link fence for him to jump over, only a brick wall resulting in a dead end. There weren't even windows he could climb into.

My pulse throbbing in my temples, I stumbled to the steps, managed to climb them and checked the steel door. Locked. Where in the hell could he have gone? As I nearly stumbled back down the steps, my eyes fell to the pavement in retreat. I glanced over at Harvey, to see he had taken to sitting on the ground next to a stack of wet newspapers. I smirked and thought, What a good idea. Sit down. Lay down. Never move again.

I took a seat on the last step and felt a great relief by getting off of my quaky legs. After closing my eyes for a moment, I felt myself slip backwards onto the steps as post-adrenaline exhaustion washed over me.

When my eyes fluttered open again, I found that I had slouched further back on the steps. Had I blacked out? Where was...

"Harvey?" I called out, my voice dry and quiet.

He waved at me, unable to speak as he heaved trying to catch his breath. He was still over by the entrance of the alley, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall. After a few gulps of air, he managed, "I'm. Okay, commish." The color in his face had receded some, leaving him a few shades lighter than that of a tomato.

I used the metal railing to get myself up and had to grit my teeth as my cramped legs refused to yield. Walking was unbearable as shooting pains echoed the length of my legs while each breath scorched my lungs. I looked down the alley once more, this time, my eyes picking up something.

A body, propped up against the rear of the alley.

I stumbled over and sure enough, it was the denim dip shit. Literally.

He was drenched in mud and sewage and reeked of something unholy. The only clean spot on him was his forehead, where a sticky note had been attached. I reached down and picked it off of him, and was surprised when he didn't even move. And despite the pain and agony that was every cell of my body, I managed a smile. And then a soft chuckle as I read the note for the second time: Dumb bad guy bad escape plan dumb bad guy covered in poo, R.

"Commish, you get him?" I heard shuffled steps alongside Harvey's voice.

I pocketed the note and nodded, "Yeah, he took a very wrong turn."

V

With patrols fairly quiet, Batgirl and I had taken to touring Central Gotham while Batman worked the periphery. Cass had showed me the digital pictures Barbara had taken of Mattie's Superman costume and I still couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. I truly felt for whatever evil-doers crossed Batman's path in the next few days.

Just after ten-thirty, we had found ourselves in Tri-Corner, but more importantly, four stories above Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock as they made a pit stop for some police fuel in the form of sugar topped sweets and strong coffee. Batgirl had pointed them out and I joked that we should drop in on them.

It was great having her back from Europe. Patrols had been torture over the summer with just Bruce, and occasionally Dick whenever he decided to drop by. On quiet nights, I would get stuck on surveillance, but with Batgirl back on the job, games of tag ensued. Mostly, she had been recounting her travels and what she had done over the summer months. It was unbelievable, that not six years earlier, she would barely utter a peep, now she could talk at no end if the topic was right.

The last few nights, however, she had actually been fairly quiet and I wondered if she was retreating back to her old ways. I did my best not to pry, but I would initiate conversations, just to test the waters.

"Look," she pointed down at the street at a man dressed in a denim coat. He had punk written all over him, and loser as well. Just as expected, he dashed forward and grabbed the purse from a woman at the bus stop, before racing down the street, Gordon and Bullock already making their pursuit on foot.

Before I could say a word, Batgirl had taken off, bounding to the next rooftop. I matched my pace with hers as well as suspect on the ground. He kept a fairly good rate, but unfortunately, Gordon and Bullock began to lag shortly after the first block. And by the fifth, there was no possible way for them to catch up to him.

At 24th, he took a sharp left and dashed across the street and into an alley. We watched from the roof of a deli as he lifted the sewer cover and slipped inside. He probably thought that it was: A, a safe place to hide or B, a place where no one would bother to look for him.

That's the thing about making an assumption. You tend to make an ass out of yourself.

We landed on the pavement and slipped into the sewer as well. I replaced the cover and made my way down the slick ladder and down onto a cement landing. The sound of water trickling and the stench of something wicked bad met me full force, nearly overwhelming my senses. Batgirl hardly seemed affected as she trudged onward, moving quickly despite the sludge and muck.

With the aide of night lenses and quick reflexes, it was easy to locate the frightened purse snatcher, who was armed only with the purse had just snatched. Unfortunately, our stealth had been compromised by the sound of us disturbing the murky water. But in the dark, it made for a more eerie attack and apprehension.

All the while knee deep in the unthinkable.

Apparently, the perp had slipped a few times in the muck and was layered in a slimy coat of who knows what. So after we had jointly knocked him unconscious, it was quite the task to drag him back. We slipped several times, nearly completely submerging in the mess. It took all of my control to keep from upchucking right then and there.

When we made it back to where we had descended into the darkness, I lifted the cover slightly and spotted Gordon and Bullock passed out. After looking carefully, I noticed both were breathing, hard, but at least they were alive. We set up the snatcher against the wall, left a calling card and the sludge covered purse as well.

"All in a night's work," I muttered as we made it up to the rooftop once more.

The damage was immeasurable. We were both covered in slime head to toe, our capes weighted by the glop. Even worse than the feeling of it was the smell, one I was sure would never go away. We wiped off what we could before skipping over a few rooftops and calling in the pickup. It was there that we ran into a very put-off Batman.

He approached us and then paused before stepping back a bit. The look on his face was loud and clear: Ewww....

"What happened?" he asked moving down wind from us.

Batgirl replied, "Pursued a suspect into the sewer."

"I hope you caught him."

I nodded, "Yeah, he'll think twice about playing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle card as an escape."

He paused before asking, "Why didn't you just put a tracer on him and wait for him to surface?"

That, I had no answer for.

Just as I was about to ask if we could cut patrols short to go get cleaned up, he looked directly at me, "Maybe you should... Call it quits for the night. Get cleaned up."

"My thoughts exactly," I replied.

Batgirl was looking down at her trashed suit, her brow high with intrigue, as if she had just realized she was covered in sewer sludge.

Batman looked us over once more, his disgust growing more evident as he spoke, "But not at the Cave. And you can't get in the 'Mobile like that."

"What, come on, where are we supposed to go, the car wash?" I cried out, waving my arms for emphasis. In doing so, I had sent a dollop of slime flying across the roof, and watched in horror as it landed on Batman's boot. He looked down at his boot and I almost thought he was going to pull out a Bat-Wet Wipe from his utility belt. Instead, he glared at us briefly, and then shifted his gaze to the Clocktower.

And for once, Barbara had not shown the restraint Batman had.

As always, we had snuck in through the side entrance of her den. At that hour, she would already by set in for the night in her room of operations, headset on and fingers flying over the keyboards. The plan was to sneak in, wash up as much as possible and then clean up any evidence there was that we had been there for any other reason than to check in with our favorite cyber-shut in.

That's why when we stepped into the den, we had been surprised to see her on the couch, pop corn bowl and remote in hand. With the lights turned down, we looked normal to her, but we smelt of a thousand stink bombs.

"What in the hell....?" Barbara began as she took in the sight before her. After she pressed a button on the remote, the lights came up full from their dimmed state and her expression changed from shock to rage in seconds.

"Listen, Babs, we can explain---," I began.

She cut me off as she made the swift move from the couch to her chair. Her eyes followed us and then back along the trail we had left from the window, then back to the puddle we were standing in. I watched on as her analytical mind began to take over, the shocked Barbara Gordon receding as Oracle came into power.

"Don't. Move," she ordered. Careful not to travel over our path, she maneuvered around us and went about opening all of her windows and then turning on all of the overhead fans. The chill from outside slipped into the apartment and brought about shivers from Batgirl and I. When she had returned to her spot in front of us, she took a deep breath and then asked, not politely, what had happened.

Not wanting to get Batgirl in trouble, I spoke, and described the purse-snatcher, the chase, the sewer. And at that point, I was all about getting Batman in trouble, so I highlighted the part where he had ordered us to go clean up at the Clocktower, an exaggeration but applicable to the situation and for our defense.

Unfortunately, I had become wrapped up in telling how mean Batman had been that I forgot the most important part: that we had nabbed the perp. Batgirl tried to talk, but her voice came out muffled, more so than usual. It was then, that she provided the straw that broke the camel's back.

She reached up to remove her mask, of which released a flow of brackish water that spilled down her front and onto the arm of a white couch. In utter horror, I watched as she shook her head a bit to dry her hair, and my eyes followed a small drop as it transcended the air and promptly landed on Barbara's glasses.

Cass wiped her face and continued, "We got him, though."

Bad move.

Really, bad move.

"Move!" Barbara screamed as she managed to navigate the chair and shove us down the hall. We did our best to keep from getting run over and sought refuge from her onslaught as soon as we reached the bathroom. Barbara growled for us not to move as she left briefly and returned with an arm full of clothes and garbage bags, then shoved me aside in order to toss the clothes onto the counter.

Before she slammed the door in our faces, she commanded that before we even thought about opening the door again, that we be showered, changed and that the bathroom be spotless. Or else.

Unfortunately, she waited until I had slam dunked my sodden gloves in her wicker hamper before calling out that our dirty suits were not to touch her clothes hamper.

V

After the door slammed, I shrugged and pulled my cape off. Having lived with Barbara as long as I had, I had an appreciation for her affinity for keeping things neat and clean. I recalled one time, that was after she had drilled into my mind that I was never to leave a toilet roll empty. And the one time I did replace it, I had set it so the paper came over, instead of under... It wasn't pretty.

"Do you think she's really that mad?" Tim asked after he removed his mask, the skin beneath strikingly clean compared to the rest of his face.

I tried not to laugh at how funny it made him look and replied, "Last fall, there was a green towel next to a blue one. She reorganized the whole linen closet, made sure the towels would match every time you pulled a new one out."

"So she's uber-pissed. Great, wonderful." As he retrieved the gloves from the hamper, I took my own gloves off and set them in the corner of the bathroom. I then kicked off my boots and unlatched my belt, "You can go first," I said as I nodded towards the shower.

It was as I began to pull off my sticky tunic that Tim spoke up, "Um, I'll just..." and I smiled to see him blush slightly before bee-lining it through the shower door. After he turned the water on, his tunic, belt, tights and boots came flying over the door, "Heads up," he called out, his tone altered with an awkwardness I couldn't place.

I had stripped off the rest of my suit and proceeded to put everything in the garbage bags and set them in the corner. After wrapping up in a towel, more so because I was cold, I leaned against the counter. I mentally counted out five minutes and felt my impatience surface, "Done yet?"

"Um, not quite," he said, nervously.

I sighed, Men. They took so long to get ready sometimes.

Cold, wet and wanting nothing more than to go to bed or at least get something to eat, I dropped the towel, opened the door and said, "Move over."

Tim gasped, dropped the loofah and made a desperate attempt to cover himself. I put my back to him and turned the hot water up before bending over and retrieving the sudsy loofah. I was amazed as I scrubbed my skin and rinsed at how dark the water ended up being. I could already picture the drain clogging up.

All the while that I rinsed off, Tim had been standing stock still, eyes quenched shut as he stood in the rear corner of the shower. I turned around to better rinse debris from my hair just as he opened his eyes the tiniest fraction and then spread them wide open before looking away, swearing quietly.

"What?" I asked, "Need shampoo?" After pouring a good amount in my hair, I squeezed some out onto my hand and spread it on Tim's hair. He jerked when I touched him and mumbled something about having soap in his eyes. As he put a hand up to cover his eyes, he reached for the shower nozzle and adjusted the water temperature. To cold.

As he maneuvered back to his corner, his hip bumped into mine and he nearly jumped in the air. Withholding my laugh, I said, "See, that's too cold," as I returned the water to its original warmth. After lathering up my hair, I rinsed it thoroughly and then added a bit of conditioner to remove and lasting grimy feeling. The shampoo I had spread on Tim's head had gone untouched.

"Going to wash up or not?"

"Well, I hadn't planned on..." he began as he opened his eyes partially. I gave him credit for trying to focus on my face. Tim was always trying to be a decent person, even in the most difficult of situations.

Well, it certainly was difficult for him, that's for sure.

I watched as he partially mixed the shampoo and then moved by me to rinse. I watched as he made a move to change the water again, and reached out and touched his wrist, "I think it's better hot."

He audibly gulped air and stared at me for a moment before managing, "Okay."

Having tortured him long enough, I stepped out of the shower first and dried quickly before donning a pair of shorts and a long sleeved shirt. Over the water, I heard Tim mumbling to himself and when I listened carefully, I could tell he was listing the states in alphabetical order.

I set his clothes just outside the shower door on a towel. Actually, they were Dick's clothes, left here from before they had broken up and gotten somewhat back together. I really liked him, he and Barbara seemed to get along so well, like it was meant to be. That seemed to be the way it worked for Batgirls and Robins.

I cleaned up most of the bathroom, mopping up the dirty water and cleaning off the counter and floor as best as I could. The only thing I really couldn't clean was the grime that had landed on the cover of a Cosmo magazine that had been on a shelf above the toilet. That and droplet of slime on the ceiling.

When the water shut off, the bathroom became absolutely silent. Then Tim's hand peaked out and barely moved the shower door before it proceeded to quickly grab at the towel and clothes before retreating and shutting the door. His embarrassment coming off in waves, I sighed and told him, "I'm going to the den, help Barbara clean up."

He spoke quietly, "That's fine. I'll... I'll be out in a few."

After exiting the bathroom, I returned to the den and saw that she had already doused the carpets with stain remover and had wiped down the window we had soiled. There was a note on the coffee table next to the uneaten bowl of popcorn. I grabbed a handful of kernels and picked up the note: When you read this, please leave. No making yourselves at home, no quick snacks, nothing. I mean it, I have Eyes Everywhere! Cassandra, you are to stay at Bruce's, Tim drive her up there before you go back to school.

I chewed the popcorn and went to my room. When I emerged a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a sweater, Tim was walking out of the bathroom, dressed in the most peculiar garb. The shirt wasn't too bad, black with white lettering listing things not to say to a policeman. The shorts however.... Black silk with red shimmering letters. Lots of letters saying the same thing every other inch of the boxers. Spelling out Dick's name over and over and over.

Tim shrugged, "You don't happen to have a pair of men's jeans do you?"

I shook my head and told him to wait there. I stepped into Barbara's room, rummaged her dressers and retrieved a pair of black wind pants. He donned them as soon as I handed them over, thanking me profusely. I showed him the note afterwards, and he shrugged, "What now?"

After a low growl rumbled in my stomach and thinking back to watching the Commissioner and the detective have their late night snack, I half-smiled, "Boy, all that running... Are you as hungry as I am?"

V

By the fourth time I rang the doorbell, a sliver of my anger had been replaced with concern. Dad should have answered by now, where was he? Shower? In the basement? Then I glanced at my watch, ten after one. Of course, he was asleep.

I knocked hard and then rang the bell again.

Finally, the clatter of the door being unlocked and then my father's form, "Barbara, what are you doing here?"

He stepped back and I made my way through. As I passed him, the stench of sewer that had been with me since Batgirl and Robin had showed up at the Clocktower was temporarily replaced by the spearmint tingle of liniment. Before I could ask about it, he said, while relocking the door, "Something happen?"

I shook my head, "Nothing." And then, "They trashed my apartment."

"Who?" he asked as he led the way to the den.

"Tim and Cassandra. They chased a suspect into the sewers and Bruce told them to come clean up at my place. Now I need it fumigated."

We ended up in the living room and after he took a seat in his favorite recliner, I moved up onto the old brown couch after setting my small overnight bag on the floor. Once settled, I began to knead the life out of a pillow. Before I resorted to pulling the stuffing out, he spoke up with a half-smile on his face, "Hmm, that ties into something that happened earlier this evening. When I called into headquarters, Steve Hoffman, he's in charge of the cell blocks on the night shift, he had reported a request for fumigation in the cells, he must have ended up with the suspect they had chased down."

My brow crinkled as my temper grew, my voice lowering to a growl, "At least their clothes hamper wasn't covered in raw sewage...."

"What's that?"

I shook my head, "Nothing. Listen, can I crash here tonight?"

"Of course," he rose slowly and then stiffly walked to the hall closet. He seemed to be sore all over, moving stiffly and wincing every other step.

"You okay, Dad?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I did a bit of pursuing myself tonight. Pushed it a bit too far, though. I'll pay for it in the morning." He returned with a pillow and a few blankets, "Hope you don't mind the couch, the guest room's packed full of boxes still."

"Still," I joked. We had been planning on unpacking his belongings for over a year now, the move from the big house to this smaller one had been for convenience and practicality. It was the settling in part that was a pain in the ass, according to him.

We talked a bit more, but it wasn't hard to see how tired he was. I feigned a yawn and he was up in an instant, yawning himself, "Well, I better get to bed. I'll cook breakfast in the morning," he walked over and kissed my cheek.

"No you won't, I will."

He smiled, "Of course you are. Good night, Barbara."

As he made his way to his room, I called out, "Night, Dad."

After his door had shut and the lights had gone out, I retrieved my laptop and searched a few cleaning specialist sites before narrowing it down to two or three companies. I had always been able to fend for myself, but there were actually jobs out there to big for even me.

I logged onto the basic OraCom linking system and pulled up the GPS tracking systems. Tim and Cass were a few blocks away from the Clocktower and upon closer magnification, I saw they were at Late Tony's, a pizzeria catering to Gotham's nightlife. Nightwing wasn't even registering and Batman was already logged off and back in Bristol. He had been irregular in patrols recently, either punishing himself until dawn or cutting it short to get home, leaving Robin and Batgirl to handle the city. Odd, but then again, Bruce had always strayed away from being predictable.

I checked the time and was surprised to see it only a little after two.

Not too late to ream Bruce a new one.

I dialed the private line that was for Bruce's quarters, a number Selina had given me years earlier, shortly after she had moved in during Bruce's recovery. Being a pair of night owls, we had shared many late night talks as Bruce slept, talking on anything from how nervous she was about the baby or to what Bruce and she had done that day. Even still, if he was out on patrols and if Mattie was in bed, I would get a call from her, asking how everything was.

This time, she was going to be my shoulder to lean on.

V

"How's that?"

His reply was a low moan and then a wince as my fingers pushed a little too hard on his back.

Bruce had been home for not even twenty minutes and had somehow managed to shower, grab a bite to eat, check in on Mattie and had even conned me into massaging his back and shoulders for him. Talk about your multi-tasking. He was laying face down on the bed, dressed in a pair of flannel pants and doing his best not to fall asleep as I kneaded the tight, lower lumbar muscles.

"Christ, Bruce, like steel..." I complained.

He shook his head and moved his arm back, pointing a finger at me, "Don't even say it."

I grinned as I leaned over, placed my lips behind his ear, "Like the man of steel."

He rolled over and sat up, "Not funny." The scowl on his face said not to push it, but the glimmer in his eyes said he was more hurt than angry. He was the only one who had not taken kindly to Mattie's costume. And it didn't help that I had forwarded the digital pictures to Clark and Lois, who in turn and had printed and posted copies of them at the Daily Planet.

I kissed his cheek, and was about to speak when the phone rang. As I stood and walked over to get it, I said to him, "Now let's not have any superhero envy. Besides, if she had been in a Batgirl suit you would have keeled over right then and there." He mumbled to himself as I answered, "Hello?"

"Selina, it's me," Barbara's voice replied. I could sense her anger, but more so, the overlaying tone of practiced control. She obviously had no intentions of killing the messenger.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as Bruce moved under the covers behind me.

"Oh nothing, aside from the fact that your husband sent two sewage soaked teen heroes to come to my place to clean up," she stated, her voice growing angrier with each word.

I paused to look back at Bruce who had rolled over on his side and shut off his bedside lamp. I spoke loud enough to draw his interest as I asked, "When did this happen?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him stiffen and then slowly turn to face me, doing his best to act nonchalant. The same way he did when we were at odds at one another. Or even worse, when Mattie had found herself in trouble. One of the many traits Bruce had passed on to our daughter.

After a deep breath she spoke quietly at first, but her tone growing increasingly louder and angrier with each word, "Tim and Cass ended up chasing down a suspect into the sewer, proceeded to get completely soaked in whatever was down there, caught the guy, returned to the surface and then him! That oh so brilliant husband of yours, told them to come to my place to get cleaned up! So now my once beautiful, white, clean, sparkling living room is covered in human muck!"

By the end of her rant, she had grown to be so loud that Bruce looked up at me, his calm face already showing a hint of uncertainty. When our eyes met, he asked who it was and instead of answering him, I simply told Barbara to hang on a second while I handed her over to him.

The second I aimed the phone at him, a great cacophony of angry, four lettered words interrupted the room's silence. He sat up quickly, eyes wide, with a look of shame and terror quickly replacing any sign of dignity. I did my best to retain my laughter as he stared directly at the source of the screaming. After a moment, I drew back and calmed Barbara down with a few quiet words.

After assuring her I would talk to him about it, I ended with, "Bruce will be over in the morning to help take care of things."

When I hung the phone up, I turned and glared at him, "How could you?"

"How could I what?" he responded, his voice strong but the body language was saturated with worry. He was in trouble and he knew it, for it was harmful to aggravate one woman of this family, but after pissing off two of them, you were dead meat.

"You know what I mean," I pointed at the phone, "Why did you tell them to go to Barbara's?"

He opened his mouth slightly, closed it and then chose a softer tone, "I didn't tell them. I was looking at the Clocktower to see what time it was, they misinterpreted my gesture." He paused and the shrugged, "Besides, I couldn't let them in my car like that."

Not one to resort to violence, I grabbed the nearest pillow and hit him square in the face with it. His quiet chuckle did little to ease my anger. He took the pillow from me and set it back down on the bed, "Come on, Selina..."

Ignoring him, I shut the lamp off on the nightstand and pulled back the blankets. As I slipped under the covers, I shook my head, "No," and then moved on my side to face him, "Did you even think about what you did? Barbara's apartment is ruined, Bruce. Ruined. And you are going to do everything she asks to make it right."

He reached over and touched my arm, "I will."

I let his hand stay there as I continued, "And you'll pay for everything. New furniture, carpets, the works."

As his hand found its way to my side, he whispered, "It's the least I could do."

I scooted closer to him, "And help her out more. Take her out to lunch. Stop that sneaking up on her crap, too."

A pair of lips and rough stubble met my neck, "Of course."

I pinched his side and he retreated. "And one more thing."

His eyes reflected a sliver of moonlight and I could tell they were aimed directly at mine.

"You have to do this, I don't want to find out that you put Alfred up to this."

I saw the faintest of smiles before, "Thought never crossed my mind."

V

Although I usually managed to work well at my desk amidst the other detectives, after six hours of secondary interviews with family members, neighbors, teachers and friends, I needed to be alone.

At the Bludhaven Police Headquarters, there was an entire floor designated solely for ballistics, crime scene analysis and fingerprint identifications. On the third floor, there was a small cement blocked office that held every piece of bagged evidence of the Wallach girl's murder. It wasn't much, but after scouring the alley and the household she had once lived in, it was all we could find. After a stop at the men's room, I was somewhat refreshed with a damp face and an empty bladder. Eight to ten cups of cheap coffee a day was doing my kidneys in, but I needed every last drop to keep charged.

As I passed through the hall towards the stairs, I received a few nods and weak smiles. The majority of the detectives, especially those who were working light caseloads, had done nothing but slave at the case. Wallach's funeral had been a week and a half ago, and since she had been laid to rest, we had come no closer to finding the man who had taken her life.

The third floor was much quieter and cooler than upstairs. Also, less populated. Glass walls separated large pieces of the floor into individual research rooms, where lab techs buried themselves with DNA and fiber samples. As I walked by, I smirked to see them hunched over microscopes, mentally picturing countless nights where I suffered cabin fever as Bruce analyzed evidence.

Just as my watch read noon, I reached a brown metal door near the left rear corner of the floor, I paused, drew a breath and entered, averting my eyes from its sign: Evidence Examination 2. Inside, the room was a little over twelve by ten, dominated by a broad stainless steel table with a few metal stools. After flipping on the light switch, the table gleamed amidst the countless bags labeled "Evidence".

I retrieved a pair of latex gloves from my pocket and pulled a stool out from under the table. Over the last two weeks, I had found myself reviewing the collected evidence whenever the paperwork piled too high or if my energy bottomed out. As I sat at the table, my hands spread out on the cool steel, I stared down at a bagged pair of dirty sneakers.

How many miles had been skipped in those sneakers? How many games of Tag or Kickball? How many times had she had to tie them each day, the frail laces unraveling through a day of activity?

I pushed the shoes aside and retrieved the packaged green turtle neck, dried to a soft hunter color, with exception to the mottled bloodstains. I took it out of the package and held it up to my nose, drew in a breath and then set it back down on the table, spreading it out. No tears, old stains, not even faded. A fairly new shirt, probably for school. The blood had been typed and matched that of the victim.

Alicia.

In my years as Nightwing and even as Robin, I had been trained for this, to remain objective even in the most drastic of cases. I couldn't even count the number of dead bodies I had seen, children abused, or families destroyed by whatever evil-doers had reared their heads in the night. I kept telling myself this was no different, just another senseless act committed for no other reason than sick pleasure.

But it was different.

After two weeks of nearly around the clock searching, evaluating, interviewing and documenting, we were no closer to solving this case than when we had started out that rainy morning. Detective pow-wows and morning briefings had fueled possible scenarios, but none of them backed by the hard evidence we needed, only theory and speculation.

The pathologist, a great by the name of Dr. Alex Rhodes, had done a thorough autopsy and had revealed what we had known and little more. She had died of asphyxiation by way of strangulation, probably from a towel given the broad bruising on the throat. Also, she had suffered some internal hemorrhaging from a few blows to the abdomen in addition to sexual penetration, resulting in severe trauma and associated bleeding. From there, the time of death had been guestimated, an uncertain craft given the recent cold weather and moisture content in the air, at twelve to fifteen hours prior to discovery.

Twelve hours, lost to the salvation of police and doctors.

"Hey, Grayson, figured I'd find you down here."

I looked up from the green shirt to see the door way filled by the tall lanky form of Hank Garvey-Reeds, dressed in his standard blue pinstripe suit, white shirt and pale blue tie. A trained eye would see the slight bulge his .38 made at his hip, but anyone else would place him as a bank assistant manager, especially when he wore his thick-rimmed glasses.

As I folded the shirt and returned it to its proper bag, he approached me, eyed the piles of evidence and then looked back at the open door briefly before looking down at me, "Been a bitch, hasn't it?"

Quite the poet.

I nodded and stood before pushing the stool under the table, "Just looking things over."

"Yeah, good to be thorough. Hell, not much to miss on this one though, Grayson. Wasn't much to start out with."

I winced as he mentioned missing something, an idea that had been plaguing me since the very beginning. Even with an outside homicide, the evidence should have been there, staring up at me. And if I had not picked up on it, it was now gone forever. That single hair or partial thumb print or even sweater thread caught on a fire escape.

In a rare sign of support, he rapped down on the table quickly, "Don't sweat this redball, kid. Happens to the best of us. You can't find what's not there."

"Yeah," I commented quietly.

He sighed, cleared his throat and made his way back to the door, "Hey, when you go back to the family's house, if I'm free, I'll go along."

After a nod of acknowledgement, I said, "Yeah, it won't be until this afternoon."

He nodded as well and then headed out.

I hadn't gotten two steps to the door before a lab coat wearing genius by the name of Aaron Graff appeared. His red and yellow hair was in its usual gravity defying style and his wire rimmed glasses were just on the verge of slipping off his nose, "Hey, Dick, you got a call on three."

"Thanks," I offered a half-smile and followed him out the door and to his partial cubicle where a light flashed on his phone. I depressed it and picked up, "Detective Grayson."

"Oh, Hi, Dick."

Despite the fatigue and frustration, I felt a sudden and faint bit of happiness at the sound of Barbara's voice.

I took a seat on the corner of Aaron's cluttered desk as he whispered, "I'll be right back, got a Hot Pocket in the microwave down in the lounge."

When he had left, I replied, "Hi. Aren't you up early?"

"Hardly," she laughed, "You will never believe what happened last night."

A slight increase in my blood pressure, "What, something bad?"

"Oh, no one died, unless you count my new sofa as a fatality."

"Hunh?" I responded.

She laughed and for a moment all the troubles in the world didn't matter. "Well, let's just say that this is one Robin story you can't even top."

V


	7. One and Only: VII

Title: One And Only: VII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

V

Gobble Gobble!

V

In a state of partial wakefulness, I reached over to drape my arm over Selina, and instead was met with a ball of warm fur. Then a pair of sharp claws.

My hand quickly retreated beneath the covers before I eyed the spot where my wife had been sleeping. Isis was lying on her side, eyes wide and threatening. I glared back and she wiggled her nose. A truce of sorts.

It was a little before nine according to the alarm clock, and it being a Saturday, I found it interesting that I was the only one in bed. Sitting up, I glanced around the room and spotted her on the sofa near the windows, a drape pulled back partially to reveal clean, bright sunshine. More so, I noticed she was talking on the phone, doing her best to keep her voice quiet. At that point, understanding what she was talking about was the least of my concerns.

The night before, Batgirl and I had infiltrated the basement of a notoriously seedy establishment where illegal gambling was the cover for a far darker line: drug trafficking. Upon our arrival, there were fourteen men in the basement, quickly sealing off plastic wrapped packages of a wide variety of narcotics. At first glance, it was easy to see that none were armed for any serious offense or defense, mostly in part because the only action they ever saw was putting liters of coke into cardboard boxes.

Even still, it was an effort to take them down. We worked systematically, cutting out the lights, bombarding the enclosed basement with gas bombs and locking major exits. Fear caused the panic I had desired and had allowed them to become erratic in their actions. We both had been overwhelmed and suffered slightly for it. It had been some time since I had to take down half of a dozen people in less than a minute.

I returned home shortly after four-thirty, after securing the scene, watching each suspect put into custody and shipped out to city jail. Then a final tour of the Bowery had topped off the night before I decided the city was safe for the time being.

Selina had squirmed away from me when I got into bed, smelling of liniment and antiseptic.

After getting out of bed, I walked up from behind her, leaned over and kissed her cheek. She smiled at me quickly and then motioned for me to go away. I offered a grunt of protest but as she returned to her phone call, I ended up sighing and heading for the shower. As I reached the bathroom door, she called back, "Dress warm, high is supposed to be forty today."

Brr.

For the last few weeks, we had barely shared any time together. She had dedicated herself to the Preserve forty hours a week, if not more, while I had been trapped in the prison of the office for just as long. Then, whenever we were home at the same time, it was for taking care of Mattie or sleeping. Independence was one thing, but the divided state we had found ourselves in was another.

Not ones to remain passive, we had taken action in an effort to combat our hectic schedules. That day, we were to spend the day up at the Preserve, welcoming its first four-legged inhabitants as well as for a tour of the facility. I hadn't been up there since the initial construction phase when everything had been dirt piles and steel beams. Then, at night, we had reservations in town at Tar Beck's for seven-thirty. She had tried to persuade me to call off patrols, but in light of a recent increase in activity, I couldn't do so with a clear conscience.

As I showered, I did a run down of day's activities and then proceeded further to organize patrols for that evening. Just as I was deciding on what time to visit the docks, I winced at a sudden pulse in my temple, more so out of surprise than pain. I rarely had headaches, and usually when they surfaced they would be more of an irritant than a problem. That was before...

The decision to leave the bullet in its place in the frontal lobe had been made in light of preserving my life. And since the tissue of the brain had no nervous sensation, it was unlikely that the bullet was the cause of any problems. I had inquired Leslie about the possibility of ever removing it and she had frowned before replying, "It's a constant aide memoire for you, for all of us. I'd hate to meddle where it's not needed and end up with you as a memory instead of a reminder."

I stepped out of the shower, toweled off and then allowed the sink to fill with warm water as I popped back two aspirin. Quickly, I lathered my jaw and began shaving. It was quite a drive out and I wanted to get going as soon as possible.

When I had one half of my face done, Selina tapped on the door and entered before I could answer. Before approaching me, she grabbed a hand towel off of a rack on the wall. Then, shortly after she paused at my side, she reached up and wiped the clean-shaven half of my face before kissing my cheek.

"Good morning," she said, far too awake for the hour.

"Morning," I murmured back to her.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she walked over to turn the shower on. She caught my gaze and shook her head, mumbled something that sounded like "stalker." When she stepped into the shower, I rinsed my face one last time and patted it dry with the towel she had brought over. Just as I was about to ask when she wanted to leave, she called out over the water, "I think we should leave by at least quarter of ten."

With a slight smirk on my face, I thought how odd it was that we could practically predict what each other was thinking. Then again, after all these years, it wasn't that hard to believe, for I had certainly seen stranger things. I told her I would get a car ready after I got dressed and checked in with Mattie.

She then requested something faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to climb up the walls of tall buildings in four-wheel drive. Before she could finish her Superman joke, I stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door just after hearing her laughter.

Since it was supposed to be cool that day and we would be spending a vast majority of it outside, I chose the warmest casual clothes I could find. Knee high black wool socks, flannel lined jeans and a silk under shirt beneath a dark blue turtleneck sweater. After putting on a pair of old leather boots, I walked down the hall towards Mattie's room and was saw that she had already started her morning.

Her bed was made haphazardly, her pajamas from the night before tossed in a small wicker laundry basket and she was seated at a small activity table in the rear of her room, furiously coloring and drawing. While Selina and I were away for the day, she would be spending it with Alfred and Leslie, and then later with Barbara. Although not certain, the tentative plans they had made for her involved Christmas shopping, lunch, and a movie. At first, we had told her that we were simply going out of town and that we would be back later that day.

Selina slipped up at dinner three nights ago and Mattie quickly realized we were going up to the Preserve. She had only gone up a handful of times and while Selina had reamed out contractors, Mattie and I had walked a few of the trails nearby. But now that there were actually going to be cats up there... We promised her that she could go up once they had settled in. She had pouted and whined and did her best, but when she realized we were not going to relent, she sighed and agreed.

I cleared my throat from the door and she looked up and smiled at me. After putting her crayon down, she pushed her chair out and ran over to me. I leaned down and picked her up as she said, "Morning, Dad."

"Good morning, Kitten," I replied as she wrapped her arms around my neck, "Have you eaten breakfast?"

She nodded, "Alfred made blueberry muffins."

"Ah," I said as I put her back down, "And did you take your medicine?"

She nodded again and then walked back over to her table. One of the drawbacks of being around twenty kindergartners is that they all seem to have a knack for spreading diseases. Mattie had caught a cold a week ago and missed two days of school. I had pushed for the whole week off but Mattie didn't want to miss Art Time on Thursday and Friday. Antibiotics had cleared up most of it but she still would utter a raspy cough or sneeze or two.

"What are you drawing?" I asked as I followed her.

"Sher Kahn," she said as she sat back down.

"Who?"

With the practiced patience of her mother, Mattie sighed, "Sher Kahn, Dad. The Jungle Book. He's a tiger."

I looked down at the paper and sure enough a large four-legged orange thing with black stripes was labeled "Sher Kahn." Next to it, was an animal of a similar shape, only all black, "And who is that one?"

"That's Bagheera, he takes care of Mowgli."

I nodded, slowly recalling the characters from Kipling's jungle tale. Although the book was far too much for Mattie at the moment, she had been fascinated with several animated movies of late, all starring felines. Last week, it had been "The Aristocats". It had always been a worry of mine, how much her fascination with cats was nature, or if nurture had come into play.

It could be worse, I reasoned with myself as I sat on the floor beside her table, she could take to admiring the dark influences of a certain winged creature.

V

"You can put that over there, Cass," I said before sipping my coffee.

She was leaning against the small love seat, her hair matted down slightly from a hard earned sweat. As she rolled her eyes at me, she stood up straight and asked, "Why can't it be here?"

After setting my mug down on my new end table, I pointed to the empty spot in the far corner of the living room, "Because, that's where I want it to be, so that's where it goes."

After another dirty look, she sighed and began pushing the love seat across the carpet.

The brand new hunter green carpet.

The systemic destruction of my apartment, or the infamous "Sewer Sludging" as Tim called it, gave way to the second renovation of my home in one year. Instead of the soft white colors I had introduced over the summer, I was now surrounded by a wide selection of earth tones. Bruce had covered all expenses, from the removal of all of the ruined furniture, fumigation of the apartment as well as all of the new paint, carpeting and furniture I could ever need. He even came over twice to paint the walls and ceiling.

Now, with everything prepared, the only task that remained was the arranging of furniture. And since they were the ones who had started the whole mess, I had recruited Tim and Cass to act as my slave labor for the day. Lucky for him, Tim was on a long weekend leadership convention in Washington, DC. So instead of having to move furniture around, he would have to wash all of my windows, inside and out. And the clock face. All of it.

"What else?" Cass asked as she aimed the love seat towards the center of the room.

"That's it for now, I guess. Rest of it comes in tomorrow morning."

With a sigh, she collapsed on the chair she had just moved, "There's more?"

I nodded, "Well, I figured if Bruce was paying, I could use a new bedroom and dining set." She failed to see the humor in it and instead laid back and closed her eyes. "Tired?"

"Yeah. Busy night."

"Sure was," I replied, "You two gave me quite a time trying to keep track of you. "How many did they end up taking into custody?"

She uttered a yawn and I smiled to see that she covered her mouth for it, "Can't remember. At least fifteen. There were a few upstairs we got to too late."

"Better late than never." When she didn't respond I asked, "So, how about a break? We could order some lunch in if you're hungry, my kitchen's pretty much down to the bare essentials."

After sitting up again, Cass looked over at me, "I noticed."

"You noticed," I laughed, "You're the reason it's empty."

"Growing girl," she commented before standing and retrieving the phone.

Not even a half hour later, we were seated on the couch, take out cartons of steaming rice and spicy tso chicken in hand, and the TV screen displaying "Will & Grace" re-runs. No better way to spend a Saturday.

Cass had been spending quite a bit of time home with me during the days. When she had first returned, most of her daylight weekend hours were spent up at Wayne Manor playing with Mattie. Then, as she settled back in to the swing of things, she ended up using the day to catch up on sleep lost from long nights out on patrol. I had asked a few times about maybe enrolling in some night classes at GSU but she said she wouldn't have time.

For as long as I had known her, she had always been a sponge when it came to new concepts and knowledge. However, over the years, I had also been able to watch her focus intensify and her interest in "stupid everyday things" slowly decrease, despite my efforts. Even her time spent abroad had done little to spurn her interest in cultural subject matters. I was pleased, however, that Bruce had noticed and brought it up to her.

And that a week later she had inquired to me about what online courses she could take.

Her twenty-first birthday was coming and she was an asocial, work-obsessed vigilante. Far too much like her mentor than I preferred. All of us, from Dick right up to Tim, were able to carry on somewhat normal lives outside of our masks. We had friends, school, lives and relationships, and however tough it made life, it was actually a life.

As I looked over at Cass, I realized she had none.

There was one that I was unsure of, however. A relationship.

There had always been a considerable tension between Tim and Cassandra, and almost everyone knew it. They were practically the same age, maturity and had similar outlooks on life: work equaled play. Tim had truly blossomed from that awkward teenager, unsure of his skills and his role in life and Cass... Well, she had always known of her strengths, but had been unsure of her ability to control them. In fact, as I thought about it, they both had estranged relationships with their fathers, perhaps Cass more so than Tim, but even still.

I suppose what was really bothering me was that there was something off about both of them. Nothing drastic but they were rarely seen together anymore, even on basic patrols, Robin would go off alone and if anyone paired up, it would be Batgirl and Batman. It was almost as if they were avoiding each other.

And the only time I can pinpoint as to when the change took place was when they had come to my apartment, drenched in foulness. Where I had chased them down the hall and into the bathroom. And had shut both of them in.

"What?" she asked.

I realized I had been staring at her and I shrugged, "Nothing, thinking to myself."

"About?"

"Nothing."

Nothing. Just how different you and Tim have been acting since I shoved you two into the bathroom a few weeks ago, and wondering what exactly happened after I left that would have caused such oddness in either of you and if I was responsible for whatever may have happened...

Cass stared back at me for a moment and then reached over to retrieve and egg roll from the coffee table. I sighed and then spoke up, "Actually, I was thinking about you."

She took a bite, then asked, "What about me?", crumbs slipped out of her mouth and landed on the couch.

I drew a breath quickly and then handed over a napkin, "Aside from a refresher course for you on eating etiquette?"

"Right," she mumbled as she took the napkin.

Not wanting to let my thoughts rest in silence, I decided to tread dangerous water, "So, I've hardly seen Tim these last few weeks."

If I hadn't been looking for it, I wouldn't have seen it. A slight change in her face, her eyes opening the slightest of fractions. A slight nibble on her lower lip. A tiny shrug of her left shoulder. Cassandra Cain was many things, but she was most definitely not prone to fidgeting.

She brushed me off by saying, "Well, he has a lot to do. School and work."

"Right," I agreed. "Have you seen much of him, at night?"

She shrugged, "Not really. Big city to cover."

Unsure as to how much rope I needed to hang myself with, I went further, "Well, you two really haven't had much time together since you got back."

Her posture stiffened, "Why would we need time together?"

"Well, you were gone all summer, Cass, we missed you, all of us." I watched as she stood and turned towards the hallway entrance. Running away from her problems. "Cass, I didn't mean anything by it."

I was surprised when she turned around and faced me just before leaving the room, "Of course not. You know, maybe you should be worried about you and Dick, not me and Tim."

My eyes followed her as she made her way to her room at the end of the hallway and slammed the door shut.

V

Twenty minutes out of Bristol, I glanced over at him.

We had been at the Preserve for six hours, most of it on our feet touring the grounds prior to the arrival of the cats. Bruce was tired but did his best to be amiable as we walked wet paths and checked over the turnouts one last time. He also did his best to remain positive, despite his concern about the project. There was a certain degree of risk involved, not financially, but physically. However, in order to appease him as much as possible, I had personally seen to it that those hired and to be involved with the cats had the practical experience necessary to ensure that no one would be eaten.

That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

But even I noticed him smiling slightly as the snow leopards trotted around their new home.

Before taking the exit for downtown, I heard him mumble softly and looked over again. He was definitely dozing off at this point. From knowing him as long as I had, it was fairly easy to tell when something was bothering him. He slept differently, he worked out differently, he even handled his child differently. But with work and home and his nightly activities, it was quite the task to decide which aspect of his life was being the proverbial pain in the ass.

Or it could be that other thing...

Five months earlier, Bruce and Dick had undergone yet another falling out. Once again, all over Dick's choice in careers. Bruce had tried to get Alfred and me on his side but we had experienced these issues before, and knew that neutrality was the safest course. I still remember when Dick had called Bruce one evening after the initial argument. Bruce had been on the floor, stretching out his back and shoulders after coming back from a jog around the property. I had walked in just as Bruce stated, and most likely not for the first time in the conversation, that police work was unpredictably violent and dangerous, especially whereas firearms were concerned.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing when Dick had replied before hanging up, "Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black... At least I get a dental plan!"

Thinking of Dick, a frown came to my face. For well over two months, he had not visited Gotham, an odd occurrence considering his attempt to reunite with Barbara as well as his bond with his little sister. Although the news had long since buried the story of the Wallach murder, it was still an everyday burden for him, and for me. Whenever Barbara and I got together, we would always end up talking about him. I knew he was putting in a lot of hours on the case, but it was a senseless murder and detectives, let alone vigilantes, would do everything in their power to bring the killer to justice.

But had Dick gone too far?

Barbara had commented the week before that she had not seen Nightwing's homing signal on in over a week. And the secret one she had placed in the sole of his boot had not left the closet of Dick's apartment in nine days. It wasn't true, but I wished he was using the night hours to catch up on rest instead of torturing himself out on the rooftops. Every time she called his home he wouldn't answer and every time she had tried to call him at work, another detective would pick up and reply that he was busy.

Busy killing himself on an unsolvable case...

Bruce jerked slightly in the seat next to me and then sat up straight before clearing his throat. "How long was I out?" his voice grumbled.

"Almost twenty minutes," I replied looking at the clock display, "And you snored like a wild boar." I smiled as my hand snaked over and scratched his arm.

I switched lanes and made the move for St. James South, feeling a slight chill travel down my spine. A little over four years earlier, Bruce and I had been driving down this road to a night out in town. One we never had the chance to enjoy. A carjacker was fleeing from police going the wrong way on the one-way highway, and had crashed head-on with us. Both of us came out in a few pieces and mended fairly quickly but it was still a difficult part of our past.

He must have recognized the tension in my posture because he reached spoke softly, "That was a while ago."

"Yeah." In a rare gesture of affection, Bruce reached for my hand and squeezed it. Always a gentleman.

We were early to dinner and instead of sitting at the bar among intoxicated socialites, I suggested we tour Tyner Memorial Park, especially since it was fairly mild outside. With the car being guided away by the valet, we crossed the street and passed through the park's wrought iron entrance. It was put up fifteen years earlier and had a recluse for downtown suits who couldn't take the fifteen minutes out of their day to take the subway or a cab over to Robinson.

Even though it was much smaller than Robinson, it was always a nice place to spend an afternoon. Broad paved paths, excellent lighting at night as well as a nice little children's play ground and collection of sport fields. With a little over twenty minutes to ourselves, we moved slowly through the park, my arms wrapped around one of his as I leaned against him slightly. Bruce's camel hair coat was soft and warm on my face and I smiled as he slowed to match his stride with mine.

As we nearly completed half of the loop, we stepped to the side as a jogger worked her way passed us, her breath coming out in white clouds. Seeing her move so fluidly made me feel somewhat guilty. I did my best to jog a few times a week, even if it was on the treadmill, on top of any strength training I did. But in the last few weeks, working on the Preserve had consumed not only all of my time, but my energy as well.

Once things settled I could get back into a routine...

My thoughts were interrupted when I spotted a small coffee stand towards the rear entrance of the Park. It's sole proprietor stood shivering as he checked the fluids in several heating pots. Bruce noticed it as well and was looking at it when I heard a rustle in the grass. Looking to my left, I spotted two dark clothed men walking briskly across the ground, talking in hushed voices. Obviously dubious characters.

Before my wayward husband could discover the ambiguous men in the dark, I cleared my throat, "I would love some mocha coffee."

He looked down at me, then at the stand. After a sigh, he let go of my arm and walked over to the stand. I pretended to walk around the corner to look at a statue, one of some revolutionary officer mounted on a bronze-rearing steed. Instead, I found security in the darkness of a few pine trees and quickly sprinted towards a scene I had partially expected. The two men were a few strides behind the jogger. With her headphones on, she had no clue what was coming. Neither did her pursuers.

Armed with a small leather purse, containing lipstick, my cell phone and bubble gum, I suddenly wished I had at least brought my brass knuckles. Not that I needed them, but they would have been pretty handy. I whistled lowly and both of the men spun around and stared at me in the same way a dog did when it's owner pretended to throw a ball. Then, not a moment later, they walked towards me, icy eyes darting and sly sneers unwavering, most likely already imagining how much they could get for my Jimmy Choo pumps.

Men.

A hard kick to the left man's side knocked him into his comrade, setting them both off balance. Another well placed kick allowed the second one to double over as he cupped his groin. If I had the time, I would have taken it, but Bruce would be looking for me, and I didn't need him to walk in on me taking my frustrations out on a few street punks.

I kicked both of them in a one-two fashion, my leg connecting with the sides of their heads, bringing about sudden unconsciousness. I watched as they collapsed onto the ground in a heap, and then glanced to see the jogger had managed her way further down the trail.

"Your welcome..." I muttered before digging out my cell. An anonymous call to emergency dispatch and a few quick steps back down the path later, I spotted Bruce holding a cup of steaming coffee and starting to look confused. I waved at him and as he approached he asked, "Where did you go?"

As my mind searched for a believable excuse, I heard the clip clop of hooves coming down the street. I glanced over towards the rear entrance to see a horse drawn carriage pulling up to the coffee stand. "Bruce, how about we get a ride back, these shoes are killing my feet."

Before he could repeat his question, I dragged him over to the cart and flashed a grin at the driver as stood beside the tall black Quarter Horse, its harness shiny black and dressed with brass buckles. He tipped his felt hat and nodded at me, "Good evening ma'am, sir." Bruce arranged for a ride back to the restaurant and paid as I stroked the sleek horse's dark face. Mattie's riding instructor and I had been plotting over the last few months on how to go about getting a horse for Mattie without Bruce ever knowing. And since he likes to know everything about anything, it had been a rather difficult task.

We had just begun to pull out into the street when I noticed a flash of lights. Good old GCPD could sure respond to a scene when an innocent female athlete was involved... Bruce looked in their direction briefly and I watched as the features of his face hardened instantly.

"Shit..." I mumbled, not wanting our night to be ruined by his alter ego's brooding attitude.

He looked back at me, some of the Bat-mode dissimilating, as concern appeared, "What's wrong?"

Think fast, Kyle.

"I... I uh... The back of my earring came off, could you look by your feet?"

V

When I first came to Wayne Manor, Thanksgiving dinner had become my task and mine alone. After several decades, I had it mastered to a science, prepared for the worst but always hoping for the best. The determining factor for a successful Thanksgiving relied on one single factor.

How well I could keep the kitchen free of interfering individuals.

"Mmm, smells delicious."

I looked up from a tray of steaming fresh rolls to see Dr. Thompkins as she entered the kitchen from the hall entrance. When last I had seen her, not more than an hour earlier, she had been in the den with the rest of the family. Dressed for the occasion in a dark calf length skirt and pale blue blouse, I smiled as she walked over and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Now Really, Leslie, I do have important duties to tend to."

She laughed, "Of course you do. Better make sure those buns get on the cooling rack before the world implodes."

I muttered softly. And then put the buns on a cooling rack.

When I turned to ask her what she had come for, I caught her peeking into a covered saucepan on the stove. After she looked up to receive my glare, she returned the cover and held her hands up in retreat, "Fine, you win. I'm leaving." I was about acknowledge my victory in evicting her when she left on her own. However, she paused at the door and looked back at me, "I thought you would like to know... Dick's pulling up the drive," and then she left me, mouth parted and all.

After lowering the settings on the stove before removing my apron and wiping my hands free of flour. I set out in to the hall, just as Dr. Thompkins had not a moment earlier. Even though I was a good thirty yards away, I could hear soft voices echo down the corridor. At my last count, there were nine scheduled to eat that night, including myself. And with the ninth and final guest arriving, I allowed myself a slight smile.

Upon opening the large oak door of the front entrance, I found Master Dick pulling up in a dark two-door sedan. He passed the double staircase and parked just before a burlap wrapped hedge. In light of the recent frost and chilly weather, I had taken to covering most of the plants in need of saving on the property, with the aid of Dr. Thompkins and Ms. Selina. He paused slightly before getting out of the car, straightening his tie before shutting the door and walking around the front hood.

It was then I saw it.

Something amiss.

Something oddly familiar.

To the casual eye, it may have gone unnoticed, but I had watched the man before me grow from an awkward prepubescent to the accomplished hero and to the detective and officer of the law. My eyes were attuned to his gait, specifically, how it lacked the usual smooth, animated stride and was nothing more than a slow, shuffle. His overcoat was large, but so were the clothes that covered his frame. I had not seen him in over month and it was a shock to see him in such a poor condition.

However, despite my obvious concern for him, I offered a smile and a warm welcome, "Master Dick."

"Alf," he smirked slightly and followed me into the atrium.

As I took his coat for him, I gently brazed my fingers over his shoulders, feeling prominence through his collarbones and scapulas. Instead of commenting, I stated, "So glad you could make it, sir. Everyone is waiting in the den."

"Thanks," he replied before looking up the hall.

Unsure as to whether he had any intentions of moving, I stepped forward and made my way down the corridor. Listening carefully, I found he took a first step after I had taken five. Since I was in the lead, I stopped first at the den and stood just inside the entrance. Master Dick stepped up to my side and looked in at the scene before us. Master Bruce and Commissioner Gordon were seated on the small leather sofa, near the fireplace while Ms. Selina and Ms. Barbara were sitting with Miss Cassandra and Miss Mattie on the larger couch opposite the smaller.

I could not place Master Timothy and I suddenly feared for the apple crisp in the kitchen.

I became aware of the fact that Master Dick had yet to make any move to enter the room. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I was slightly discouraged to see the solemn expression that dulled his features.

Over the last few weeks, Ms. Selina and I had discussed on several occasions the concerns relented to her from Ms. Barbara. Ever since he had taken up the Wallach case in October, he had slowly withdrawn from the normal way of life he had been consistently taking part in for over five years. He had developed an intricate system between his detective work both masked and unmasked, in addition to visiting his family on an almost regular basis. And as he and his acquaintance had begun to rekindle their dying ember of love, it was reasonable to expect it not to go smoothly.

Ms. Barbara would never have expected that her hurdle would have been as grand as the death of Alicia Wallach.

I heard him clear his throat before taking a few strides into the room and towards the others. It was then, as I watched him in the setting as he struggled to be social with half-hearted smiles and weak handshakes, that I recognized it. The familiarity in the way he carried himself and the way he looked.

The same way Master Bruce looked as he slowly deteriorated while capturing the dozens of inmates from the Arkham break out years earlier. When he had retreated so far within himself that deep down, he wished for death. A wish that the sinister Bane had been all too willing to grant him.

V

I was about to ask if I could go find Isis, prepared with a promise not to get dirty or to bother Alfred, when I looked towards the door and saw him. After I smiled and jumped off of the couch and raced across the room, "Dick!"

He slowly knelt before me and spread his arms before I reached out and hugged him. I squeezed as hard as I could as I felt him wrap his arms around my back, "How's my little sister?"

I giggled as he stood, leaving me on the ground. Usually he would pick me up and put me on his shoulders, even though Dad didn't like it. I thought it was fun, though, being able to see above everyone's heads. Even still, I latched onto his hand, taking hold of as many fingers as I could. I hadn't seen him since before Halloween, almost a lifetime.

Before I could tell him about school or soccer or anything, I noticed Mom had gotten up and approached us. She was smiling softly and stepped right up to him, "Glad you could come, Dick," she said before leaning over and kissing his cheek.

He nodded slightly and as I looked up at him, he replied, "Same here. After all these years, I don't know if I could be satisfied by a Thanksgiving dinner if it wasn't from Alfred."

That's for sure. I always tried to save room in my stomach for Thanksgiving, but I was never able to eat as much as Cassie, Dick and Tim. Last year, they had a pie-eating contest after dinner. It ended as a tie between Cassie and Tim and a very angry Alfred.

I followed Mom back to the couches and waited for Dick to take a seat before I climbed up and sat on his lap. After straightening my skirt, I leaned back against him and kissed his cheek. He tickled my arm slightly and then looked over at Dad. I was confused though, because he didn't look too happy to see Dick. Barbara was though, and she leaned on the arm of the couch she was sitting on closer to him, "Long time no see stranger."

He shrugged, "Been pretty busy," there was a long moment of silence that Dad ended by clearing his throat. Dick looked over at him and then looked over at Mom, "So, how's the preserve coming along?"

I bounced slightly on his lap, "There are cats there now."

His eyebrows rose, "There are, have you seen them?"

I nodded, a smile growing on my face from just thinking about the snow leopards. Mom had taken me up last weekend and I watched as they had played around in the few inches of snow that was up at the Preserve. Mom said that maybe, if she got a quiet cat, that maybe I could pet it. "Yep, snow leopards, Dick, five of them."

Mom agreed, "Yeah, we're still in the process of being able to tell them apart. Tampa is easy to pick out, though, isn't she Mattie?"

"Yeah, she has a big dot on her paw," I arched my thumbs and pointer fingers and pressed the tips together, "This big."

Thinking about the leopards reminded me of my quest to go find Isis. I slid off of Dick's lap and asked if I could go get her. So she could say hi to everyone of course. Mom said I could as long as "you promise not to get dirty." Why did everyone ask that?

The last time I had seen her, she had been in the library, curled up in the chair at Dad's desk. I skipped down the hall towards the room and had to jump a bit to turn the light switch on. Isis had moved, but not far. She was laying on the desk, batting her paw at a pen. I climbed up on the chair, pushed the pen away from her and leaned over to touch noses with her. Mom had gotten Isis before I was born so she had always been there. I liked to think that we were kind of like sisters, sometimes. My friends at school had sisters and brothers their own age. I loved Dick but it wasn't the same...

After picking her up, I hopped off of the chair and walked back towards the den. She mewed softly and pawed at my chin. She had only scratched me a few times, but only from playing. The only person she really clawed at was Dad, but they never got along well anyway.

The second I got back, the room went quiet as everyone looked over at me. Uncle Jim and Leslie had left and when I looked over at Dick, I noticed Barbara had moved to sit next to him in her wheelchair. There was room next to Dad and I walked over and sat beside him.

As the grown-up talk started, I leaned against Dad and scratched Isis under her chin. After a few minutes, Dad reached an arm around my back and pet Isis' hind leg. He probably figured that there weren't any teeth back there, so it was a safer place to pet.

Just before I was about to ask when dinner was, Alfred entered the room and announced that everything was prepared. Everyone stood at once and slowly made their way out of the room, except for Mom, Dad and myself. Isis too. I watched as Dad looked at Dick as he walked away with Tim. Usually they would rough house whenever they were together, until Dad or Alfred yelled at them.

But then they only walked side-by-side, not even talking. Odd. They were probably focused on how much food they were going to eat. Or who would get the drumstick.

I kissed Isis on the head then let her go. Mom walked over to the couch we were sitting on and leaned over to face me, "Why don't you get washed up?"

"Yep," I said as I got off of the couch. There was a bathroom next door, one for when company came over. When I opened the bottom cupboard under the sink, I frowned to see there wasn't a step stool. I returned to the den and paused at the door. Mom and Dad were both standing and talking quietly. I could tell he was upset, he was making the face where his mouth and eyes tightened and the muscles of his jaw clenched.

Before they realized I was back already, I heard Mom's voice rise, "I don't care, Bruce, you need to talk to him."

Dad drew a breath and instead of replying, he looked over at me, his face instantly relaxing, "What's the matter, Kitten?"

"Um, there's no stool."

He looked back at Mom, nodded and then walked towards me, "Okay, I'll help you."

When we got back into the bathroom, he picked me up and let me sit on the counter so I could wash my hands. Dad picked a hand towel and gave it to me to dry my hands as he washed his. He took it after me and as he dried, I asked, "Who do you have to talk to?"

"What?" he replied as he hung the towel back up.

"Mom told you to talk to someone. Is it about the cats?"

"No, no. It has nothing to do with them. It's just something I have to remember to do today."

As he helped me off of the counter, I nodded, "Yep, I know what that is."

"You do?" he asked as he opened the door for me.

"Of course, Dad. It's Thanksgiving. You have to remember to be thankful."

V

With at least five pounds of turkey too many in my stomach, I was doing my best not to fall asleep on the couch. The "adults" were in the dining room, conversing over coffee and cherry pie. Mattie had been put to bed just after dinner, exhausted after a day of over-eating and playing hostess. Cass and I had holed up in the recreation den, which was a little less than half of the main one. However, it was where the TV, stereo, and surround sound, all extravagantly equipped and priced.

And for the last hour, we had been flipping back in forth as to what movie to watch.

"Plot, Cass. How can you watch a movie that has no purpose?" I asked before sipping a glass of water.

She shrugged on the couch beside me, "It has purpose. Body counts, bloody fists, bad guys biting the dust," she retorted as she counted off on her fingers.

I was about to ask her how a bloody fist could possibly be compared to an unexpected antagonist shifting over the side of the protagonist when I heard soft footsteps at the door. A glance over my shoulder and identified Dick as the new comer. I nodded at him and if he had seen it, it hadn't shown it as he walked by me and collapsed into a large arm chair.

"Anyone leave yet?" I asked.

I waited for him to reply, and was about to ask again when he responded, "Jim and Barbara left about ten minutes ago."

"Ah," I commented. I set my glass back down in the table and noticed that Cass was looking at me. My brow tightened, as if questioning her what she wanted. In response, her eyes darted to Dick before returning to meet mine. I read the message loud and clear.

Earlier, before he had even arrived, Cass and I had over heard mild conversations in the den. Concerned conversations about him and how much he had taken on over the last few months. Having my own fair share of work, I hadn't noticed his absence quite as much as everyone else has. The old out of sight/out of mind routine, I suppose. But after seeing him so withdrawn, pale and down right exhausted, my interest had been considerably boosted.

"What are we watching?" he asked quietly.

I glanced at the screen to see John Travolta being dragged away by a rolling vehicle through blazing inferno that once was a parking lot. Obviously, Cass had the remote. She answered him, "The Punisher."

"Ah, a classic," he muttered.

Whether there was too much testosterone in the room or there was an off chance that there would be any cheesecake left, Cass stood and said, "I'll be right back. And don't change the movie."

I watched her leave, perhaps longer than necessary, and was interrupted when Dick let out a low chuckle. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied, a hint of a smile on his face. Whatever he found amusing was worth it, even if it was at my expense. I smiled a bit as well and settled deeper into the couch, "So, how about them Red Sox?"

He shrugged, "How's school going?"

"It's going, schools' been a little hectic but the nightlife has been pretty easy lately. Now I know how you felt when you were in school..."

"Yeah, it's not easy, but well worth it."

I suppose. At least you are over that whole 'no direction in life' phase. Everything I've tried, even the law stuff, it just didn't fit. I could do the work but I was bored to tears. Now I'm back to the business trail, pretty much to keep my Dad off of my back."

"Where is your Dad?" he asked.

I sighed, "He and Dana are visiting her parents. I was supposed to go up but... Oh well, enough about me, how's it going in the 'Haven?"

"Same old, same old, I guess."

I paused, then asked, "How've the rooftops been?" I waited knowing damn well he hadn't been out as Nightwing in over a week and if he had, it had been in a guise none of us knew about. I was surprised when he said, "To tell you the truth, I've been working under the badge more than with the mask."

"A lot of night shifts?" I asked before chancing a look back to the door. Cass must have hit the dessert jack pot, she had been gone for at least an eternity. Or maybe it was the unfamiliar awkwardness that had arisen between my best friend and I.

"No, just a lot of overtime," he leaned back and closed his eyes, "This one case, man..." he mumbled.

Not knowing whether it was my place or not, I offered, "Hey you ever need help, with anything Dick, let me know. Gotham's been pretty dull lately, if you need someone to cover patrols, you call me."

Dick opened his eyes and drew a long breath, "I'll keep that in mind," even though we both knew he wouldn't.

Just as Cass returned with three slices of cheesecake, I heard a soft buzzing sound. Dick jerked slightly and fished his coat pockets until he retrieved a cell phone. After answering and telling the caller to hold on a minute, he stood and looked over at the door, "I have to get going..."

I stood as well and put my hands in my pockets, "Yeah, well we should meet up sometime, beat each other over takeout or something."

Another half-hearted smile and a look towards the door, "Definitely," and then as he passed Cass on the way out, "Keep him in line, will ya?"

I sat back down as he disappeared into the hall. Cass offered me one plate, set the second one down next to my water glass and kept the third for herself. She then sat on the couch with me and asked, "Why did he leave? Work?"

I shrugged, tasted the cake and replied, "Didn't say but I wouldn't doubt it."

We watched the end of the movie until all of the credits had rolled. I managed three bites of cake before deciding against inducing my guts to burst. Cass had emptied hers and set her plate under the one on the table. "Don't you think it was weird?"

"What was?" I replied.

"We didn't even have an eating contest this year. We always do."

Weird. It was down right wrong.

V

"I'm back, talk to me, Dave."

Dave Sturgis, one of the day shift detectives replied, "Oh boy-oh, Grayson, you better be thankful for this."

"What happened?"

I heard the rustle of paper, a loud laugh that had to have been from Grant Morris, and then Sturgis' tobacco scarred voice, "Hardy was reviewing the preliminary reports we did up on the interviews, was actually checking through the neighbors and local people and that market guy, five blocks from her house, well turns out he gave us an alias on the initial interview."

I recalled the dislike that he and I had initially for the market owner. There was nothing concrete, but there was something about him... He gave off that same eerie vibe that so-called reformed murderers did.

He continued, "We both went down this afternoon, brought him in under a secondary interview, finally got it out of him. His real name is Arlen Cayhill and he's got a record."

"What on?" I asked.

"Aggravated assault, robbery and rape."

I allowed a brief silence before telling him I would be there in an hour. As I pocketed my phone, I passed the dining room and frowned to see that it was empty, even the table had been cleared. I followed soft voices to the main den and when I looked in, I noticed Bruce and Selina were sitting on the sofa together. There had been in the middle of a muted conversation, and from the look on Bruce's face, it hadn't been a pleasant one. I cleared my throat to announce my presence, "I'm heading out."

"So soon?" Selina asked as she turned to face me.

"Yeah, I got a call from work, something's come up."

I watched on as Selina faced Bruce again and reached out and touched his arm. He stood, smoothed out his shirt and said, "I'll see you out." His tone said it wasn't an offer.

When we were well out of hearing range of the den, I asked, "Where's Alfred and Leslie?"

"Kitchen. She's taking the rest of dinner to the Clinic."

"Ah."

At the coat closet, he stood and watched as I donned my leather jacket. I half-expected him to remain silent, but to my surprise he asked, "What's come up?"

I buttoned the jacket to the middle of my chest, "A possible suspect in one of my cases." Who was I kidding. Everything else on my desk was closed, every pointless case since and before Alicia was in black on the board, just like everyone else's. There were two redballs and one was mine.

Bruce spoke quietly, "The girl?"

I nodded slightly and walked a few steps towards the door, "Yeah."

"There's a score of detectives working that---."

Without a thought, I interrupted him, my voice on the edge of being angry, "And I'm the primary, Bruce. We've had nothing for weeks... It would seem pretty dumb if I wasn't there to head things now."

He followed me and in a few strides, he was in front of me, reaching for the doorknob. I stepped out just as a sharp wind passed by, drawing a slight shiver from me. I suddenly wondered what the low for the night was going to be. It was amazing what sub-freezing weather did to crime levels in Bludhaven.

On some level, I wanted to say good-bye to him, or to at least end on a nicer note, but I didn't want to look back at him. There had been one single thought that had coursed my mind since I stepped out of the alley. After I had sketched that small, rain-soaked corpse on my rain sodden note pad. It was more than the fear that I had stomached, the fear that I had missed something vital that would have allowed me to put the case down by then.

It was the thought that if Bruce had been handed the case, if it had been a child on his streets in Gotham... He would have been able to solve it.

And I wouldn't.

"Dick, at least stay so we can talk."

I hesitated slightly and then continued on to my car, "About what?" I then heard his footsteps, quickly down the stairs and across the drive. When I felt his hand on my shoulder, I spun around and swiped it away, "What, Bruce? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to think about what you're doing to yourself."

Low blow.

"What I'm doing to myself, Bruce? How about Bruce, what about what you're doing to yourself?"

"I'm not working myself into the ground for nothing."

I had to use every inch of what strength I had left not to hit him. "For nothing? The child's death is on my shoulders, Bruce, until I find the sonofabitch that did it."

I heard the door open and looked up to see Selina stepping through. Bruce ignored it and stepped closer to me, "Listen to me, Dick. It's only on his shoulders, not yours, you know that. Don't blame yourself for something you didn't do."

"That's the point," I growled before moving to the driver's side door, "I didn't do something. I didn't solve this case." I got in, fired the ignition and shifted into reverse. Bruce backed away towards the steps where Selina stood, arms wrapped around herself. As he reached her side, she pressed a hand against his arm.

I tried to tell myself that the reason I sped all the way back home was because I was excited about the possibility of an actual suspect. But even that wasn't true, I just wanted to get away from all of them. After spending months in the darkness of my life, seeing everyone happy and carefree was to much to handle. And to top it all off, the whole night, I couldn't help but notice their sad looks, their thoughts practically plastered on their faces, their eyes saying everything. I was a failure...

I took the stairs up to the fifth floor quick enough to add a few more beats to my pulse. In less than a half hour, I would consume at least two cups of coffee, review the records of Mr. Cayhill and then have a nice long chat with the former convict and current proprietor of the Fish Mart. All in the dank, mildew ridden, fluorescent lit, claustrophobic atmosphere of the near ancient Bludhaven Police Department.

My home.

V

Sorry for the delay, folks, midterms and fic writing don't mix.


	8. One And Only: VIII

Title: One And Only: VIII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, I hope to be back on track with this one as long as Chris keeps me motivated :)

A/N 3: The history of Firefly is based on events in "Batgirl: Year One" and the last POV has scenes based on events in David Simon's "Homicide: A Year On the Killing Streets"

V

A quiet winter's eve.

Well, the definition of quiet in Gotham was skewed slightly. It generally meant that the murder and rape numbers were in the single digits, less than a baker's dozen of cars were stolen or damaged in some way and that no more than four major fires broke out.

I was at my desk, just about ready to call it quits. After ten hours of telephone calls, meetings and shifting through pointless reports, my eyes were grainy and my brain was threatening to implode. I had even gone as far as turning the ringer off of my phone. A glance at my watch face showed it to be a little after eight. It was possible, I suppose, to head out shortly. Get home, throw a steak on the grill, sit back and relax for the rest of the evening. Unlikely scenario, but I was in an optimistic mood.

"Commish?" I heard after a rap on the door.

I looked up to see Renee Montoya, head of special crimes. She was forty but didn't look a day over thirty, with long, kept black hair and trim features. She had been one of the first female detectives to make an impact in Gotham and had stuck through to make it to the top. As head of SC, she managed several rosters of detectives and officers involved in the processing of the bizarre crimes that seemed to surface in Gotham's city limits.

She and her team were currently working on the disappearance of one Garfield Lynns, AKA Firefly. A once successful pyrotechnic stunt coordinator, his obsessions for fire had grown out of control and eventually lead to a near fatal accident on the set that nearly took the life of the lead actress. Unemployed and lost in his pyromania, he adopted the name of Firefly and used various parts of Gotham as his playground to set fires and watch them grow. Eventually, he had teamed up with the pathetic Killer Moth for a brief spell before their differences in sanity levels separated them. Over the years, Lynns had never expressed any undue hatred for Gotham or for its protectors.

He simply liked to burn things.

For the last ten years he had been incarcerated in Arkham and after a "miracle recovery" had been released on a probationary status. As with countless others over the years, we had known right away that this was a bad idea. It wasn't a few weeks before he had disappeared from his single room apartment into the darkness of Gotham. And he had yet to strike or show his wild-eyed face.

Yet.

"Renee, come in," I said while sitting straighter in my chair.

She approached my desk, holding a thick folder against her side, "Sir, we have a sighting of Lynns. Security cameras showed a masked figure in a trench coat breaking into a fuel station storage room earlier this evening. We had Tech. take a look and they were able to get a close up," she retrieved a photograph from the folder and handed it to me. It was Lynns all right, his stylized mask reflecting in the soft light.

After she took the picture back, she continued, "There was nothing at the scene besides some foot prints and a jimmied lock."

I stood and looked down at her, "Good work. Have Forensics get to work on what fuel he took, get an estimate of how much juice he'll have."

"Commish!" a hoarse cry came from the hall. A scanner sounded just after, sending out tones for emergency response of both medical and fire varieties.

I took a few long strides and a left turn, which placed me on the open floor of the "Spill Over", an area of desks and open offices that several detectives had taken in light of the expanding forensics lab. Several detectives were in the front of the room staring up at the mounted TV. I looked as well and heard Montoya gasp behind me.

An apartment complex glowed in the night sky, balls of flame erupting from broken windows as billows of smoke rose into the air. Ten floors of residents, trapped inside, their efforts to prepare for the holidays reduced to cinders. But then the camera panned upward to a faint, reflective thing floating in the sky. The zoom was awkward but once adjusted, I could see the gliding winged form of Firefly.

Dispatch was calling for what help they could, and I quickly realized that I needed to make a call of my own. I dashed back to my office, grabbed my cell phone and then took the steps to the roof three at a time. Once the signal was lit, I dialed seven digits into the phone quickly and waited. After three rings, "Hi this is Barbara, I'm not here so leave a message." I hung up and dialed Bruce's cell phone, got no reply and then dialed Wayne Manor, swearing when I had a similar automated reply.

I looked out at the horizon of the city line and sighed at the sight of a soft glow in the distance. Sirens and lights flashed below as they quickly navigated Tri-Corner to get to the apartment. Hoping to save something.

"Sir?" I heard Montoya's voice and turned towards the door, "We're heading over."

"I'll…" I looked up as the Signal seared the dark sky. I left the light on and followed her down the steps. I would keep trying to get a hold of Barbara, she would surely be able to tell me where the hell everyone was, so that I could end their quiet night.

V

The forecast for the weekend was mild, but that night we were to see another four inches of snow and wind gusts up to thirty miles per an hour. A frigid eve, but not uncustomary for winter in Gotham.

As a long tradition, the fifteenth of December was the beginning of decorating for Christmas. I recalled years ago when Master Thomas would lift his young son up over his head in order to top the tree off with a gold star while Ms. Martha and myself would tend to decorating the lower branches with garland and popcorn strands.

This Christmas, it was Master Bruce, Timothy and Miss Cassandra decorating the rooftops with lights while I prepared evening coffee, cocoa and cookies for their triumphant return. Dr. Thompkins, Ms. Selina and daughter in tow were in the den, hanging the glass balls, decorations and lights on the new Douglas fir that had taken up residence in the Manor.

"Alfred, you in here?"

I turned my head away from the stove in the direction of the kitchen door. She was dressed in a blue wool sweater and tan pants, fresh from a long day's work at the Clinic. Dr. Thompkins had been uncertain as to if she would have been able to attend the night's festivities at all. She had been rather busy of late, following the unexpected death of one of her fellow physicians. Juggling the massive patient roster by herself and with only two other doctors had taken its toll. My Christmas wish had been for her to find rest and peace… if not but for just one night.

"I smelled the chocolate from all the way down the hall," she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She stepped up behind me and wrapped two slender arms around my waist, "Mind if I have a taste test?"

"I certainly would, madam…"

She laughed and retrieved the spatula from my hand. I had been heating chocolate for hot cocoa and was just about to add a hint of mint when she made her move. Dr. Thompkins leaned forward, aimed the spatula at her lips and almost stole a taste before I intervened. I expected a protest on her part, but was pleased when she moved back and then approached my side.

"No fair," she sighed as she looked out the window, "It's really coming down out there isn't it?"

"That it is. I have begun to wonder if those risking life and limb on the rooftop have been caught in the midst of an avalanche of some sort." I looked up as well and watched as the puffy flakes of snow fell slowly.

There was a slight noise above us and she asked, "What was that?"

"The patter of eight tiny reindeer, perhaps?"

To my utter surprise, a large section of frozen snow suddenly appeared outside the window and collided with the hedges, followed by several more similar chunks. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that perhaps the icicles and snow on the roof were finally beginning to succumb to gravity's pull.

It was only as a strand of lights came into view that I realized I had been mistaken.

The blinking light strand rapidly slipped to the ground from up above, moving as if it were a cord of an unsuccessful novice rope charmer. Then, the dark clothed form of Miss Cassandra breezed by, landing with a soft thud, followed then by the green parka wearing body of Master Timothy. I glanced at Dr. Thomkins just as she gasped slightly and I looked again just in time to see Master Bruce make his own ungraceful fall to earth.

Not a moment later, the service entrance into the kitchen opened, allowing access for three snow-covered individuals. They seemed to disregard both Dr. Thompkins and myself as they trudged past, all talking at once and ignoring each other. I listened carefully and surmised that Master Bruce was complaining about a lack of communication on the behalf of his younger protégés. Master Timothy was asking if it was possible to "break your butt" while Miss Cassandra was complaining about snow that had gone down her shirt.

As they marched onward and out into the hall, my acquaintance leaned against my arm and commented, "What are you smiling about?"

I paused and then stirred the chocolate, "Oh, nothing dear. A bit of the holiday spirit is all."

A moment later, "Well, that's about to be ruined," she mumbled. After I turned the heat down on the chocolate, I looked over at her and then followed her gaze back out the window. And there, beyond the snowflakes and dark sky, shone a searing light towards the city confines.

"Ruined indeed, madam."

V

"Oracle?"

"Right here, Boss," she responded just before her image came up on the 'Mobile's display. Batgirl and Robin were in the Redbird a mile back, following my lead as we sped into Gotham. After the chaos that had been the Christmas light arranging, it would be a while before any of us would be on friendly terms.

"What's going on down in Coventry?"

Her eyes glanced away for a moment, to another display on her screen system and then said, "Huntley Apartment Complex at the end of Roberson Ave. Firefly's been spotted on the scene, has made no attempts to flee."

"He hasn't been apprehended?" I asked, pushing the accelerator until the speedometer read triple digits.

"Um, he won't come down. Those new glide wings are really something…" her joke was half-hearted, a trademark characteristic she expressed in stressful situations. Strikingly familiar to a young boy I once knew…

"I'm on it. Contact the Redbird and have them meet me there."

"Right-o."

The image faded to black and I returned my gaze to the road before me. Having been released from Arkham, Garfield Lynns had been placed as my top priority of late. In the past, other rehabilitated villains had been given their second and third chances at functioning in society, and I knew it was only a matter of time before old habits resurfaced. Lynns had always been predictable, his activity fueled by a deep obsession with fire. Unlike others that I faced off with, Lynns seemed to be somewhat easy to apprehend due to his conventional nature. Whenever he started a fire, he was compelled to stay and watch it grow from a small crackle of flame to a bursting inferno. Not much for combat, he armed himself with a variety of tools to help him evade capture, most notably his flamethrower.

A tone sounded in my cowl and then Robin's voice followed, "Coming up behind you."

"Check your re-breathers and stock up on foam pellets."

"Already done."

I paused and then spoke, "Fine. We'll rendezvous at the scene. Batman out."

It was another ten minutes of silence before I saw the first inklings of orange glow. I fed the accelerator and closed the last few miles faster than the slippery roads warranted. Despite being in the city, the roads in Coventry tended to be one of the last ones plowed or even salted. The tires handled it well and hardly slipped as I pressed the brakes down firmly. If I had the liberty of time, I would have parked within a side street. Instead, I locked up and left the car in a two-hour parking spot.

I was out an already running up the street, glancing above for a good anchor for a line when the Rebird pulled up behind me. Years earlier, I would have stopped to brief them face-to-face. I shot up a line to the top of the fire escape and activated the comm. link, "Robin?"

"Here," he replied. I glanced down to see them running towards the scene, "We're heading over to help with rescue."

"Fine, I'll handle Lynns," I barked before closing the connection. As I reached the rooftop, I counted half of a dozen rescue vehicles including fire trucks, ambulances and police cars. There were many small figures running about, calling out orders, fighting with massive hoses and herding victims away from the blaze. Adding two vigilantes would provide adequate coverage on the ground.

As for the sky…

Lynns was making lazy figure eights above the apartment inferno he had caused. The waves of heat allowed his thermal wings to provide excellent being and control of his speed. A disadvantage for me. His gaze was fixed on the flames as he soared, unaware of everything else in his surroundings. An advantage for me.

I leapt onto an adjacent roof and measured the distance by sight before taking another bound, this time, my destination wasn't the rigidity of the rooftop, but of the back of Garfield Lynns. The Kevlar lining of my suit took most of the impact as my torso collided with his aluminum alloy body armor. As I hooked my arms around his, pulling them back at an awkward and painful angle, he cried out in surprise and began to shake back and forth in an attempt to free himself. His wings strained against my hold, but I pulled back harder on his arms, felt a pop and then leaned forward, aiming both of us straight at the rooftop I had jumped from.

Seeing how he was more heavily protected, I allowed Lynns to take the brunt of the impact and set him up for it long before he realized we were going down. As we collided with the cement, his head snapped back and connected solidly with my jaw. I rolled off of him quickly and jumped to my feet as he stumbled to his.

"Lynns…" I growled. He finally made eye contact with me, faint reflections of fire glistened the glass that covered his eye slits.

"Batman," his voice was muffled slightly, but I clearly detected the anger in his voice. I had interrupted his work, of which he never seemed to appreciate. Lynns stepped back and tested his arms, as he spoke, "Can't seem to get anything done with you around." He then proceeded to aim his fire gun at me and pressed the trigger. I stood still and did my best to remain stone-faced as nothing happened.

"What the…?" he began as he looked down at the gun. I took the opportunity in his midair confusion to cut the cord that fed the gun. The tanks in his belt were practically empty anyway but I wasn't about to go home with any burns that night.

With his attention elsewhere, I jumped at him, delivering mostly kicks to his abdomen and neck. Punching his body armor was just about as effective as hitting a brick wall. He flailed back at me, his attempts easily blocked before I responded with harder blows. He managed to hit me once with his useless gun before I ripped it away from him and reminded him why I was one not to be messed with.

Lynns fell to the ground, rolled to his side and muttered, "Ow."

As he tried to get up on his hands and knees, I looked over the edge of the roof, noting any progress that had been made. Batgirl and Robin were nowhere in sight but I knew they could take care of themselves… for the most part.

Wanting to get to the fire, I reached down and lifted Lynns up by his throat. He kicked out a bit as he tried to get his feet flat on the ground. Unfortunately, by the time he had managed to do so, I was holding him over the edge and ten stories above the chaos below.

"You're insane!" he cried out, his legs frantically trying to grab onto the ledge I stood on.

"No, Lynns," I growled quietly, "Look at what you've done… Look down there."

He hesitated and then shot a glance over his right shoulder at the blazing apartment. I noticed his breathing deepen suddenly as he took solace in the fire, "Yes, what I've created…"

"No!" I forced his head to the left, down at the firefighters and ambulances, "Look at what you've done."

"I… I didn't…" he stammered before looking back at me.

Having dealt with his and many others' pathology, I had learned to tolerate their behavior to a point. Unfortunately for him, my patience had long since run out. I threw him down on the roof, probably harder than necessary. As a result, he was unconscious when I walked over to his fallen form. Once bound by his hands and feet, I called in his location to Special Crimes and that those on the ground could use the aide of another vigilante.

V

"Snow," she muttered as we ran towards the blazing apartment building.

I looked over at her and asked what she meant. Batgirl jumped a small patch of ice, landed flawlessly and looked back at me, "Still can feel the snow."

Despite the danger we were about to put ourselves in, I snickered, recalling how our short-lived flight off of the roof had ended with us piled on one another in a snow pile. A few days earlier, we had attempted to make a snowman with Mattie, ended up in the midst of an awesome snowball fight before Alfred had threatened our lives. Especially if we continued to rough house in such close proximity to his burlap wrapped hedges. And when we had crashed into the snow not too long ago, she had managed to get snow under her clothes, just as she had in our snowball fight.

Then all the fun and games disappeared.

Dozens of service men and women, geared for the battle against the flames, were already on the scene. Aside from the squeal of sirens, the squawks of radios and screams of innocents added up to the chaos I had expected. After a quick scan, I spotted Gordon's trench cot clad form near an unmarked, speaking into his own hand held radio. Nearby, I recognized Detevices Montoya and Randomme, eyes skyward hoping to get a glance at Firefly. I looked as well and couldn't make anything out through the smoke.

Not that there was any chance he was still up there, I thought while we approached Gordon. Knowing Batman, poor Lynns was probably getting a taste of his own medicine.

"Here comes the Calvary," a gruff voice said. Beyond the unmarked that Gordon was hovering next to I spotted the lumbering giant that was Harvey Bullock. His dislike for masked individuals ran back long before I sported one.

I offered him a quick nod before locking eyes with Gordon. The Commissioner looked exhausted, his grim face darkened slightly from ash. There was an undecipherable voice crackling on his radio and he listened briefly before translating it in his head and responded, "Move the third team out than and get in touch with Chief Teague," and then at us, "A few sections of the stairs have collapsed. They've cleared out everything below the eighth floor, but there are five units on the top two floors that have not been cleared. The fire escape on the back wall is suffering from serious fire damage, hardly sturdy enough for a flea."

"We're on it," I nodded and motioned for Batgirl to follow me. I thought I had portrayed myself as being brave and in control rather well. With the stairs out, our only entry and exit would be with grapples, a quick, effort-demanding method, but the only one in sight.

We secured lines to the stone edge of the roof and ascended quickly. As we neared the top, I called out, "I'll take the top floor, you go for the ninth."

"Right," she replied.

"Here we go," I swung out a bit on the line and aimed for a broad window feet first. Glass shattered musically and I landed on my feet in the middle of a smoky living room.

"Hello!" I called out before retrieving my re-breathing device and a handful of foam pellets. The faintest sign of fire and it would be covered in an ooey gooey mess. I left the room, keeping low as I looked for signs of life. I heard a faint cry and quickly moved towards it as I partially opened the door of a bedroom.

She couldn't have been more than five years old, dressed for bed in pale yellow and blue flannel pajamas.

My mind flashed to Mattie's face before I regained focus. This girl must have been a star student in the fire safety class at kindergarten because she crawled on the floor towards me, keeping her mouth covered with what appeared to be a sock. Smelly, but it was doing its part in decreasing her smoke inhalation.

"Hi," I knelt before her after taking out my re-breather, "My name's Robin and I'm going to get you out of here."

She practically leapt into my arms. After I showed her how to hold the re-breather in her mouth, I gave her the backup and replaced mine in my mouth. We backtracked to where I had left my line and told her to hang on really tight as I wrapped one arm around her back and the other with my line. I then took a slight breath and jumped out the window.

When I had been training as Robin, so many years ago, Bruce had made me climb possibly one of the largest oaks I had ever seen in my life. Later that afternoon, he told me the triple digit footage that the tree measured up to. I thought the goal had been to test my agility or to find any fear of heights. To my horror, it had been to test my guts. Luckily, I kept my guts in place as I reached the top of that tree, secured a line and jumped as he directed me from below.

After we landed on the ground in one piece, I wiped a few tears off of her face before removing the re-breather from her mouth. I asked her if anyone else was at home with her and she whimpered softly before looking up at the fire and whispering, "Mommy…"

Three trips later, I had cleared two apartments, of which included three adults and one child. To save time, I had doubled up on the passengers on my body, knowing I would pay for it in the morning. Before I went back up, Batgirl landed nearby with a teenage boy at her side. He stumbled a step, looked at his parents as the ran towards him and then back at her, "Thanks."

She nodded at him and then looked at me, "How many---" she was interrupted by a deep cough, "Have you found?"

"Seven."

She smirked, coughed again, "I've found ten. All clear on my floor, I'll go back up with you."

As we neared the tenth floor, I heard her cough again. On a hunch, I guessed that she had yet to use her re-breather, a bad move in this heavy smoke. I was beginning to feel the effects of the smoke but it had yet to show. When we landed on a window ledge, I told her, "Batgirl, stay here, I'll go in and find who's left and then I'll help them get to you to take them down."

She hesitated, acted as if she was going to reply and then nodded, "Okay, Boss."

I almost laughed and then shook my head and then left her. The ground I had yet to cover was the rear left quadrant of the floor, which consisted of a largest apartment. I alternated calling out to anyone that was left with taking slow, deep breaths with the re-breather, sucking in whatever clean oxygen was left in the hallway. The last door was locked and it took two solid kicks to break it down. Unlike the other apartments, this one

Had begun to burn, flames licked walls and danced up to the ceiling.

In the corner of the first room I entered, I saw the fire demolishing a Christmas tree.

"Anyone in here?!"

"Help!" a woman's shrill voice replied. I passed down the far too narrow hallway towards her cry and proceeded to walk into a nightmare. The rear bedroom was completely ablaze and towards the back of the room, a good portion of the wall had crumbled, blocking the way around the fast burning bed. A young woman huddled with a black haired child and when she saw me, she rose slightly and cried out, "Over here!"

I stepped back and then took two quick, powerful strides before jumping above the bed. Given the small space on the other side, I practically landed on them and shielded any fire form them with my cape. The girl in her arms was on the verge of unconsciousness and when her mother's eyes followed my gaze, she began to cry, "She won't wake up…" before coughing violently. I gave her my re-breather to use and then placed the spare in the girl's mouth and told her to make sure it didn't come back out. The kid's pulse was slow, but steady.

That's how to win the race…

With careful aim, I landed a few of the foam pellets on the bed and towards the doorway. They were quickly activated by the heat and upon explosion doused the flames in fast-spreading foam. I then helped the mother get across the now slippery bed as I took the girl into my arms. Once in the hall, I guided the way out into the main corridor and told her how to get to Batgirl. She reached for her child and I shook my head, "I've got her, you lead the way.

As we approached the door of the first apartment, where Batgirl was eagerly awaiting our arrival, a burst of fire came through from below. The floor itself was shaky for a few moments and I suddenly wondered if it was all going to come crashing down. If I had taken too long in getting everyone out and if we were going to die because of it…

I watched the mother enter the door and stumble down the hall to safety.

Then I watched a part of the ceiling cave in right in front of me.

"Shit," I mumbled. The mother was out of eyesight and I hoped that she would keep going. I activated the comm. link after checking the girl's breathing and my own, "Batgirl, there's a woman heading your way, meet her in the hallway and help her out."

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice noticeably more raspy.

"I've got her daughter with me but I'm in the corridor and the ceiling's starting to give so I'm going to take another way out."

"Wait, I'll come help---."

"Robin out." I shook my head and stared down at the little girl, "If that wasn't a Batman move I don't know what is."

Despite Gordon saying the fire escape was no use, I made my way to the East wall. As the ceiling and floor continued to make unsavory groans and crackles, I picked up the pace. With twenty yards to go, my eyes were watering beneath my mask and I was doing everything in my power not to lie down and cough up a lung or two. In the midst of a coughing bout, I knelt down slightly and took the opportunity to check the girl over quickly. Still slow and even. Mine had to be going at least a thousand beats per a minute. Which was doubled when I felt a sudden blow to my shoulder.

I spun out of the way and stomached the urge to grab at the wound. When I looked up, I recognized my "attacker" to be a pull down attic door and ladder that had finally lost its fight with gravity. I felt the gravitational force as well and wondered when the girl had become so heavy. Then again, that could have been a number of things. The lack of oxygen. The numbing blow to my arm. The ever-growing fatigue. The haunting fear that the second I would set my foot on the rickety fire escape it would collapse…

"Robin!" a voice sounded above the crackling flames.

I looked up and realized I was kneeling on the ground still, mere feet from the window. When I looked through the smoke, I noticed Batman was standing just inside the already opened window, his cowl-covered face more concerned than I had seen it in years.

Getting to my feet was agony and each step I took towards the window could have been categorized as medieval torture. Fortunately, I had something more imperative to worry about.

I ignored Batman as he offered to take the girl and then I refused to take his already anchored line. After carefully balancing myself on two secure bars of the fire escape, shot my own line and called back to him before jumping, "See you down there."

Aside from handing the girl off to a blue-garbed female paramedic and mumbling her vitals, everything else ended up as being just short of hazy. I really couldn't remember how I managed to get myself to the alley behind the northern wall of the apartment. I faintly recalled feeling water drop on my head as the fire fighters brought out more hoses to battle the blaze.

But I recollected, crystal clear, stumbling and falling onto the wet pavement, and thinking how good it felt not to be moving.

V

Despite staying up until a little after three in the morning helping Alfred tend to the torched heroes, I was awake just before seven and turned the alarm off before it sounded. Bruce had piled a few pillows to elevate his shoulder. I had taken one of them in the brief time that we had been sleeping and he hadn't even made a move to take it back.

I sat in bed beside him after stretching my arms and stared at his face before deciding he was actually asleep. He had come to bed a little after five, after making sure our guests were comfortable.

After the Firefly fiasco, or as Bruce ha described it "an incident", Cassandra and Tim had both returned to the Manor to be cared for by Alfred. Tim won the coveted "Who Could Obtain the Most Injuries In One Night" with a grand total of six significant first degree burns, smoke inhalation induced laryngitis and pharyngitis and a five inch gash on his shoulder, to mention all the little bruises and strains on his joints and muscle from jumping ten stories on a repeated basis. Cassandra was a close second, who suffered the same as Tim, minus the cut. Bruce, shockingly enough, came in third, with only a few bruises, the worst being on his shoulder from crashing into the roof with Firefly.

I slipped out of bed, put on Bruce's fleece lined loafers and then his thick cotton robe before stepping out into the hall. I checked in to see Mattie was still out, Taffy's furry body concealed by the covers. From there, I took the stairs quickly sown to the second floor. At the third door on the right, I knocked softly and then opened it after hearing a raspy, "Come in."

"Awake already?" I asked as I walked into the room.

Tim was sitting up in bed, beneath far too many layers of blankets to be comfortable. Alfred had no doubt forced them onto the poor guy. The TV in the corner of the room was on a local news station and showed a tall, red-haired man giving the seven day forecast. As a precaution, Alfred had also set Tim's injured arm in a sling, so when I looked, I found the remote to be in his free hand.

"Yeah," he replied, "Figured I had a long day of nothing ahead of me, might as well get started now."

I took a seat on the edge of the bed and smiled slightly, "Too bad, Bruce is sawing logs upstairs."

He smirked as well, and then coughed quietly, "Wouldn't doubt it." He shifted slightly and did his best to conceal the wince that resulted. Tim caught my gaze and shrugged, "It's all right. I can't tell which is hurting me worse, everything from the fire or falling off of the roof last night."

I laughed, "Yeah, what happened with that? I was expecting to see beautiful lights all over my house and instead there's a strand on the ground, not even lit, and a hole in the snow interestingly shaped like a pile of humans."

"It wasn't my fault, I was holding the staple gun."

A moment of silence later, I asked, "Well, do you need anything, breakfast? Another blanket perhaps?"

He laughed and the coughed hoarsely. "No thanks, Mom."

I gasped and barely resisted slapping his arm, "Now, now, I'm not awake enough for that," I stood and walked to the door, "I tried to be nice, you can fend for yourself."

As I stepped out of the room, he called out, "Okay, Mom!"

I refused to admit my motherly tendencies were spreading beyond my own daughter. Or that I was old enough to a mother to a twenty-one year old singed Bird Boy. Tim seemed to find it amusing to torture me about it. Little twerp… When I came to Cassandra's room, across the hall and two doors down, she didn't reply to my soft knock. I cracked the door and found her sleeping still. Finally, rest for the weary.

Not wanting to be the only one eating breakfast, I decided to head back upstairs to see if Bruce had realized I was missing. To my surprise, he was sitting on the edge of the bed when I walked in. The muscles of his shoulders were tensed and no doubt every fiber in his body was refusing to cooperate. I walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed before kissing his cheek, "Mmm, well done. Just the way I like it."

"Ha," he managed before slowly rising to his feet. I watched as he walked over to the dresser, in search of a shirt to complement his rumbled pajama pants. After being with him for so long, the unsightly scars that covered his body had become a normal, everyday thing. But even sometimes, especially when I looked at his back, I felt a stirring in my chest. The amount of pain he had suffered, and for so long it had been alone…

Mattie had never really asked about them, since the scars had always been there, they were also normal for her. The one time I could remember her taking an interest was when he was teaching her to swim two summers earlier. He had told her they were old injuries from when he was younger, not a lie but most certainly not the truth.

Although Bruce moved slowly across the room, I knew it was more from fatigue than injury. When they had returned the night before, Cassandra could hardly take two breaths without hacking and Tim was in and out of consciousness. In fact, as I looked at Bruce, the only visible harm on him was a large bruise that mottled his side, of which he had designated as when Lynns had hit him with his gun.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until she spoke that I realized I wasn't the only one looking at him.

Mattie, as she stood by the doorway, asked softly, "Dad, what's that?"

We both looked back at her at the same time, or shock at her sudden appearance plainly expressed on our faces. Bruce quickly donned a long sleeved shirt and walked over to her, "What's what, kitten?"

She pointed at his side, "That. It's a contusion. Leslie told me that's another word for a bruise. How did you get it?"

He looked over at me for support and I shrugged before getting up and walking over to open the drapes. I heard his soft grunt and then, "It was an accident. Ran up the stairs and tripped."

Luckily, I glanced back just in time to see her shaker her head, "You're not supposed to run up the stairs, Dad."

"I know," he replied as he picked her up.

Mattie pointed a finger at his face, "Now you know why."

I hid my grin by turning away from them. Bruce agreed with her and told her to go get dressed before breakfast. He then looked over at me after she had left, "Thanks for helping."

My response was a shrug.

And then a giggle.

He walked towards me, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, dear," I said with a grin.

He kept coming and I said, "Bruce no running in the house…"

That did it.

The second he got a hand on me, I was laughing uncontrollably. He picked me up and then laid me out on the sofa by the windows. In a weak defense, I pinched his neck and then moved on the flesh of his underarm, "Stop it…" I managed between giggles.

"Wayne women turning against me," he murmured in my ear before kissing my neck.

"Poor baby," I replied before poking his sore side. That didn't go over well and he retaliated by poking my own sides.

Finally, I dug a fingernail into his collarbone and he backed off, "Always going in for the kill."

"Meow," I said before sitting up next to him. My hair was a mess and I smoothed it as I continued, "I wasn't the one who broke his own house rule."

He sighed and looked over at me, "I didn't."

"According to your daughter, you did. I half-expected her to put you in time-out." I watched him smirk slightly in response. A few weeks earlier, Bruce and I had been arguing over something stupid, so much so that I still can't remember what it had been about. He had gotten to yelling louder than I and Mattie, who had been down the hall helping Alfred make dessert, came down and told him to use his inside voice or he would have a time-out.

I laughed quietly, thinking about the stern look on my child's face that day. He leaned over and kissed my cheek before saying he was going to shower. I said I would be in shortly and proceeded to sit on the couch and stare out at the crisp winter morning.

And where I should have been pouting because the high for the day was twenty-three degrees and because my husband had to lie to his daughter and members of the Family were infirmed from trying to do what was right, I was smiling. I had a soft grin on my face because December meant snow angels and Bruce would read Black Beauty to Mattie every time she asked and no matter what, there would always be someone watching over Gotham.

"Mom?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Mattie in a pair of tiny blue jeans and a blue sweater. She trotted over and pulled herself up onto the couch next to me, "Good morning, Mommy."

I kissed her head.

"I heard laughing," she said quietly.

"Your dad was tickling me."

A grin spread over her face, "He's silly.

Yes, he was silly. And tall and dark and handsome. And broody.

And my one and only.

V

I was staring at a silent phone and hour and half after my shift had ended when I heard Trey's laugh, loud and clear.

When I looked up, it took a moment to realize what the source of amusement was a cardboard Santa Claus that had been marred with red pen bullet holes over by the Board. The last addition to a variety of morbid Christmas decorations that surfaced every December. The highlight of course was the miniature fake pine tree that sat on the water cooler, decorated with cut out morgue photographs of drug dealers, ornamented with sparkles and tinsel.

Merry Christmas.

With less than two weeks until the twenty-fifth, I had yet to even consider shopping for my friends or family. In fact, the only time shopping had come to mind was when I had wondered what gifts Alicia Wallach would not receive on Christmas morning. Other than that, it had been nothing but work.

Since Thanksgiving, I had put down two murders. The first had been a brawl in a tavern just south of Exmoor. Two patrons, drunk beyond and sane level, had enrolled in an argument over who the bartender was attracted to. Fists gave way to beer bottles and then finally, one pulled out a switchblade and repeatedly perforated his former buddy's bowels.

The second had been worse, if that could have been possible. A drug deal gone sour had resulted in two wounded and one dead. All under the age of eighteen and coked out of their minds. The weapon of choice had been unregistered Berettas, spitting out a total of nineteen bullets before all three were on the ground bleeding.

A complete waste of my time.

I had once cherished a slow month where it was nothing but natural cause deaths that needed to be finalized or no-brainers that simply needed to be okayed. That allowed my real detective work as Nightwing to excel. But in the last three months it had been less and less nocturnal vigilantism and more and more night shifts. My paychecks were astounding but my patience was running out.

Somehow, the rushed demand to solve the Wallace case had slowly ebbed over the last few weeks as evidence disappeared and theories became the only way to attempt to solve the case. My superiors had hinted several times that I needed the fresh cases that I had landed to get a break from Alicia. Veteran detectives, even Hardy, had encouraged a break, just to get my mind reset for another go.

But everyday I wasn't working the case, it was another day that I wasn't solving the case.

"Tis the season to be bloody," Morris's voice rang through the silent detective room. I looked up as he walked through the entrance, sporting a charcoal suit, white shirt and a tie printed with Christmas lights. He wore it every year, alternating it with the one with Santa playing strip poker with a Rockette. And was winning. He walked up the Board, gave a good look over and then glared at Trey, "Shouldn't you be typing something?"

"Excuse me, what?" Trey replied glancing back at me for support. I hadn't offered any in his time on the fifth floor, mostly because when I had first started out, no one had done so for me. Besides, a vast majority of the banter was done in simply good fashion to build report and to ease the tension of handling murder cases.

I shrugged in response and proceeded to take a sip of my recently filled coffee mug. "Come on, Grayson, help me out here."

"Sorry," I replied quietly.

Morris sauntered over towards my desk and sat on the corner of it, squishing a few of my recently solved case files, and then crossed his legs slowly, "What's the matter, Darlene? Need a little pick me up?"

I managed a smile and then winked at him, "Not at the moment, but when I do, I'll look you up, sugar."

He let out a deep laugh and patted my shoulder before getting off of my desk. Two years ago we had been volunteered to transport a female prisoner to her hearing and the jail matron had refused to release into the custody of two men. There had been a considerable pointless debate about breaking protocol and in the end, Morris had shaken his head, grabbed the clipboard from the matron and said, "Well, guess we can't keep it a secret forever, Darlene."

The matron, a squat, black woman who had just about lost her patience with us asked, "Who the hell is Darlene?"

I had nodded and held out a limp-wristed hand, "Please to make you acquaintance."

Morris grunted as he handed the clipboard back and then nodded in affirmation, "She's my partner, Darlene Grayson."

The matron, in no mood for humor, looked me up and down, and then scowled, "You are not a woman."

I had winked at her quickly before replying, "No, but I used to be."

And even still, whenever there was nothing to do around the office or whenever Morris felt like living up that warm afternoon, he'd bring it up and new detectives would arch their eyebrows as the older ones would laugh their asses off.

Unfortunately, there was no response, especially from me.

Morris noticed, and asked quietly, "Hey, you know that dumb shit that we brought in last week?"

I nodded as I thought back on the bar stabbing and said, "Lance Franklin."

"Right, dumb shit. Anyway, he got in the paper this week. You got some serious props for it."

"Hunh, didn't even see it."

He shook his head, "When's the last time you read a paper, Darlene?"

I hadn't looked at one on over a month but I told him it had been six days. He said he'd find a copy and stash it on my desk under the mess somewhere when he got around to it. As he made his way to his desk, Trey pulled up an empty chair to mine and collapsed into it. Instead of having to look at his pouting, I indulged in reviewing three-month-old coroner reports on Alicia Wallach.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked suddenly.

"I suppose," I mumbled before moving onto color eight-by-ten photographs.

There was a long pause as the young man collected his thoughts. He started to speak, stopped and then started again, "Well, I know that this is really a hard thing to talk about for you… And I could see why. But, maybe you should, I don't know…"

I finally looked up to jumpy eyes that were doing their best to avoid my face, "What is it Trey?"

"This case. I mean it's gotten to me to, don't get me wrong…"

I shook my head and drank coffee, "What about it?"

My confrontation ended up coming out in my voice more than I had intended and Trey responded, "I know we haven't worked together long and I know you have been doing this longer than I have and I know that you, well, know more than I do."

"Is there a point to this?" I asked, my tolerance running thin.

"All I'm saying is that maybe I know something you don't." He looked at me expectantly for an answer but when I didn't give him one, he continued, "I know what this is doing to you, Dick."

Whoa.

I had nothing to say to him. In fact, I had nothing to say to anyone. After rising to my feet and packing a few files into a leather attaché case, I donned my blazer and buttoned it before Trey stood.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I just want you to know I'm here, if you want to talk."

Wrong move.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," I pointed to the files Morris had sat on, "Type up the final reports and get them field. And make sure you have your schedule figured out for Christmas, I don't want to have to cover you."

"Dick, please… where are you going?"

"Home, my shift is over," I walked away, "Get to work, Trey."

As those in the homicide room watched my back as I strode off, I lengthened my stride and looked down at the floor. When I passed the board, I glanced at my name, at the red letters beside it and continued to a small lounge area that had a row of second-hand lockers from the high school. Although I had a full locker down on the first floor, it was too much of an effort to not only maneuver the halls to the locker room, but the last thing I wanted to do was mingle with officers.

Every time I ran into one that had helped in the initial handling of my case, they offered useless words of encouragement and desires for me to "catch the sonofabitch."

I retrieved my leather coat and a shoulder bag that had my laptop and other necessities for on-the-road detective work. As I went to slam the door shut, I looked up to see a large blue shoebox on the shelf. Interesting, I thought to myself. I had no lock on my locker, mostly because I had nothing of real value in it nor did the other detectives even bother to meddle with the belongings of others.

The box was practically weightless, its top not even taped on. There was a folded index card on it however. I unfolded it with one hand and recognized the undecipherable chicken scratch of Detective Sergeant Doug Roberts: As the meanest guy here, I figured I'd be the first to give you a Christmas gift. It's an old one of mine, and since the one I have now is better than this, you can have it. Hang in there, kid. DR

I pocketed the note and then opened the box. Wrapped in delicate white tissue paper, was an old fedora, clean of dust but it had seen better days. Roberts could never be found at a scene or outside of a building without a hat on his high-browed head. I had never asked him about it, but I had heard other new detectives dare to question the practice. His reply had been that if Indiana Jones could score all those girls by losing his bullwhip and gun and sword and by keeping his fedora, well "so can I, damnit."

Replacing the empty box in my locker, I donned the hat and glanced at myself on a grimy wall mirror. A sly smile formed on my lips before it quickly returned to the weak frown I had sporting for far too long.

I took it off and hooked it on my thumb before returning to the hall and setting out for the stairwell. I had just opened the door to the stairs when my cell rang. The display read Barbara's cell number. There was a pang of guilt somewhere in my chest as I turned the phone off.

She had been the only person in Gotham that I had spoken with since November, and that had been on a very limited basis. Brief chats on my dinner breaks for the most part. And as much as I would have loved to hear her voice, I knew I wouldn't be the best of company for her.

As I slowly made my way to the parking lot, I knew the only company I needed right then was a few hours of sleep, hopefully dream free.

V

Sorry for the delay, I apparently suck at life…


	9. One And Only: IX

Title: One And Only: IX

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, I hope to be back on track with this one as long as Chris keeps me motivated :)

A/N 3: Happy Belated Non-denominational Gift Giving Season!

V

As I had for since the eighth grade, all of my shopping was completed by the eighteenth of December. Dad always said he would try and beat me and finish his shopping first some day, but I always expected his late night call on the twenty-fourth to go shopping with him. What I hadn't expected had been Selina's call on the twentieth, asking if I would like to join her and the family for some shopping and lunch.

Another surprise was that instead of touring the shops and boutiques on Fifth, we were going to the Carousel Mall. My reply had been, "Oh now I have to go. Bruce in a shopping mall the week before Christmas… I'll have to remember to bring my camera."

When we met up at the northwest entrance, they had been shopping for less than an hour and already they had at least fifteen bags from ten different stores. Mattie was absolutely delighted to see me, Bruce looked as if he was ready to lie down and die and Selina was doing her best to belay his suffering with a grin on her face. Mattie ran over to me and hugged me as Bruce and Selina slowly approached. Selina pulled back a loose strand of black hair and said, "Tell Barbara what you found for Dad."

The child giggled and whispered into my ear, "Suspenders."

I smiled as well, just picturing him wearing them, "Well that's a fun gift," I replied before glancing up at Bruce's scowling face.

He averted my eyes as he looked over at the Discovery Channel store, "Mattie, let's look at the telescopes."

She turned to him and put the pout on full force, "But Mom said we were going to Build A Bear…"

I had to smirk, not only at Bruce's facial response to his daughter's words, but at the fact that he was trying to compete with designing and dressing your own stuffed animal with a telescope. As intelligent and curious as Mattie was, there was a limit to what her interests could handle.

Selina leaned against Bruce's arm, "Mattie go with Dad, help him find something for Tim. We'll meet you at the Build A Bear after you get done there, okay?"

Mattie sighed and agreed quietly before taking her father's hand. We watched them step into the mass of shoppers and navigate their way to the store's entrance. Selina then lead us in the opposite direction to the stuffed animal haven after saying, "He's been a grouch and a half today. I know he hates the holidays but this has been ridiculous."

"How so?" I asked, my voice slightly elevated to over come the murmur of the crowd's footsteps and chatter.

She didn't answer until we reached the safety of the store's open door way, "He almost didn't even come."

Boldly, I asked, "Is he feeling all right?"

Selina shrugged and watched as a couple and their son selected an outfit for the newly stuffed teddy bear, "It's been three days since… I would think he would be fine, it's not like he had it nearly as bad as Tim or Cassie. I don't know, I think he's just being his Scroogey old self."

"Wouldn't be Christmas if he wasn't, Selina."

She smiled, "How very true."

We worked our way through the aisles of displayed bear apparel and accessories quietly. I came upon a navy blue police uniform and wondered if Dick would like it. He had called me the other night after coming home late from work and had asked me if I would mind helping him figure out his shopping. I told him to not worry about it and that I would take of it for him. As he tried to push money on me, I laughed and told him that instead of monetary payment, I wanted a back rub.

When he didn't respond, I realized he had fallen asleep on the other line.

I was brought back to the current when I saw a flash of blue and red breeze by my face. I looked to see Tim make a Superman costumed gray teddy bear fly. He winked at me, "Do you think Mattie will like it?"

"But of course," I replied, "She's all about flying."

Selina approached us and smiled to see Tim's arrival, "Speaking of flying, were you going to come up to finish the lights tonight?"

He shrugged and held the bear to his side, "Sure, I have to meet Leslie at four," he cleared his throat, "But I can come up after that."

"Good. Because three body shaped holes in the snow and a strand of lights all over the ground does not constitute hanging up the lights," I shook my head, "Cass said you were the one that started it."

"No way, she slipped, bumped into me, and when she began to fall, she grabbed onto my arm… But I was holding the lights and so was Bruce so once she fell, we all did."

"Right, blame the only girl involved," Selina muttered.

Tim shrugged and made his way to the check out line as Selina and I waited for him just outside the store, keeping our eye open for Bruce and his daughter. They emerged with two new bags to add to the collection of the day's efforts. As he approached us, he muttered, "Last damn thing in the store…"

I snorted while Selina elbowed him for cursing in front of Mattie. She had been oblivious however as she eyed the walls of stuffed teddy bears. The store had reached its maximum capacity and I suggested to Selina that maybe we should grab some lunch and come back. She glanced at her watch and asked Bruce what he wanted to do.

"Isn't it a little late to make reservations?" he asked.

"Dad, it's a food court, you don't have to," Mattie sighed. She then spotted Tim as he walked away from the register, "I want to eat what Tim eats!"

"Uh," Tim managed a confused stutter, "Um, sure thing kiddo. Yo quiero Taco Bell…"

Bags in tow, we shuffled alongside the other zombie shoppers, making our way to the Food Court, of which boasted every single fast food franchise in the Northern Hemisphere. The entire time we were in transit, I could hear Bruce trying to convince Selina that they at least eat at one of the "nicer places… like the Ruby Tuesday or whatever."

With a pair of golden arches just in sight, I heard Mattie say that she had to go to the bathroom. Selina said she would take her and instead of abandoning her, Bruce decided for all of us that we would stay and wait at a small collection of benches. After we settled, I watched them walk off towards the restrooms down the corridor next to the hair salon and cellular phone store. It wasn't five minutes after Selina and Mattie had left that it happened.

It began when I spotted the red and white-garbed figure of a mall Santa Claus with a small group of parents and children surrounding him. I remembered thinking how it was great that the guy was touring the mall and not sitting in that North Pole set up with kids crawling all over him. I was going to ask Bruce if he planned on having Mattie's picture taken with Kris Kringle, but when I turned to look at him, he was gone.

Before I could locate my wayward mentor, I heard the shrill scream of children and the thud of a fist into a belly that jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

Tim and I looked on in horror as the Santa fell to the ground and as his admirers gawked at a stone-faced Bruce. As my mind searched for any plausible reason as to why he would assault a short, chubby man doing his holiday deed, a pair of mall security guards trotted up and quickly tried to act in charge of the situation.

By then, Tim and I had approached Bruce who was beginning to explain the scene he had caused, "…I remembered the news report the other day, about a con artist who was hitting up shopping areas the last few days, and when I looked at his face I recognized it… And I, uh… Didn't see anyone around so I figured it was only right for me to do something… Before he struck again."

The taller of the two guards knelt, felt for a pulse on "Santa's" neck as a young girl bawled, "He killed Santa!"

"No," Bruce said softly, "I didn't…"

A few more children declared the murder of Santa rested on Bruce's shoulders and he did his best to defend himself as parents tired to comfort their young. When the guards hefted the man onto his feet and dragged him over to the bench we had been occupying moments earlier, Bruce sophomorically replied, "See, he's not dead… Besides, it not like Santa's even real…"

Oh, no.

Dozens of glassy eyes widened and locked onto Bruce before erupting in bouts of tears and cries. I heard a few parents call Bruce a Scrooge while even more labeled him an asshole. I hid my grin by biting my lip. Hard. Tim was leaning against a bench, chuckling softly and muttering, "Santa killer."

Three additional guards finally showed up and helped lug the quasi-conscious con down the hall towards Mall Security. One of them, barely eighteen, took Bruce's statement, of which Bruce could hardly deliver without getting a scowl from passing shoppers that had witnessed the event. After the situation had been deemed complete, the guard shook his head and looked up at Bruce, "Next, time, sir, I advise you to leave this to professionals," before turning and walking away.

We gave Bruce a moment to himself before Tim spoke up, "Well… That was interesting. You should have clued me in, we could have tag teamed him."

"And I could have called in an alert status for the JLA," I grinned.

Ten minutes later, Bruce had yet to reply to us, but Selina and Mattie had finally returned, "Hey, someone in the bathroom told me some jerk clobbered a mall Santa---."

"He was a criminal, not a mall Santa, there is a difference---," Bruce growled.

He was interrupted as a young mother called out her son's name. He was stomping towards Bruce, tiny eight-year-old hands holding a cup of hot chocolate. Before the mother could sang the child's arm or before any of us could react, the cocky little kid promptly tossed his beverage at Bruce, who instinctively stepped aside, allowing the landing of the airborne liquid to become my shirt.

The mother of the twerp apologized laboriously and scolded little Jeremy at great lengths before quickly departing. I simply stared down at my chocolate and marshmallow soaked shirt before looking up at Bruce's half-smirk.

He cleared his throat, reached into one of the bags and retrieved a flat box, "Well, this was supposed to be for Christmas… But, um, a few days early wouldn't hurt."

I snatched the sweater from him and asked Selina if she would come with me. As we made our way to the bathroom, I heard Mattie ask, "Dad, I spilt juice on my lap this morning… Can I open a gift early too?"

V

With the Clinic Christmas party only a day away, there was more than plenty to do and hardly enough time to do it in. Alfred was to come down that evening to help with the baking and to provide company for my far too silent home.

Even though there was a crunch for time, I had managed to arrange a mid-afternoon appointment with Timothy for a check on his progress from the events a few nights earlier. For a startling change, Bruce had not been the one to bear the worst of the injuries, but his younger protégés had, mostly Tim. I had been able to watch him develop from the awkward teenager into a full-fledged hero over the last few years, his true colors finally coming through.

Hence his foolishly valiant actions during the fire.

The doorbell rang two minutes after four, signaling his arrival. I had to admit that Tim was the most courteous of the small legion of vigilantes that guarded the City. Bruce pretended he had no manners, Dick was generally decent and Cassandra far too quiet to cause a problem. Therefore it was up to Tim to keep the name hero decent.

I stepped just inside the den and called out that the door was open. He opened it, walked in and sighed, "Not safe to leave your door unlocked, Leslie."

I scoffed, "Bruce gives me the same lecture."

"It's true."

"It's rubbish," I replied as I returned to the kitchen. He followed me two strides behind, close enough for me to hear his footsteps but far enough away so that I couldn't hear his breathing. Smart boy.

While waiting for his arrival, I had been working on a gingerbread house, just a hair smaller that a breadbox. Construction was complete, leaving just the decorating. I handed him a tube of icing and a metal decorating tip and said, "Get to work."

He smirked and said, "Yes, ma'am."

I washed my hands and fetched my doctor's bag from the bedroom closet. When I returned, he had drawn out three windows and a door. I selected another tube and a finer tip and began detailing the roof, "So how has it been?"

"Good," he said quietly before finishing the last windowpane.

"Just good?"

"There haven't been any problems, if that's what you mean."

Thinking of the blunt trauma, I asked him, "How's the back?"

Tim nodded, "Fine, been doing some stretches, prevent cramps. Not as sore as I expected it to be."

"Well, that's good. As long as you don't push it, the skin's flexible there but only to a point. When Alfred has to re-suture, there is no anesthetic."

He smirked, freakishly like Bruce and commented, "So I've heard."

There was a silence between us as we finished applying the icing. When I retrieved a bowl of assorted candies, I selected one and popped it into my mouth, "Mmm, gum drops. Bruce's favorite are the green ones."

"Really?" he asked, his voice broadcasting surprise, "Never pictured him as the green gum drop type."

"When he was younger, couldn't have been much older than Mattie, I would always save the green ones and give them to him whenever I saw him. Tom and Mattie knew about, Alfred did too, but they pretended not to."

I looked up to see that Tim was staring at me. Alfred and I reminisced about a younger and happier Bruce all of the time, but I suddenly realized Tim probably had never heard anything about Bruce's childhood aside from what happened in Crime Alley. I pushed the bowl over to him after I grabbed a handful of candies.

When I began to press them in to the icing, he asked, "What was he like?"

Another long pause fell between us before I could respond, "It may sound corny, but he was a lot like his daughter. Very carefree, happy, intelligent. Tom was hardly around, but when he was, Bruce was at his side every second."

He smirked again, "Just like Mattie is with Bruce."

I nodded, "Precisely. And as much as Mattie, well, Martha, was a lady, she had quite the fiery spirit. She was so petite and subtle… and yet she could boss poor Tom up and down the streets of Gotham without lifting a finger."

That drew a laugh out of him, "Also very familiar."

Our talk dwindled as we finished the house. He had been there for thirty minutes, twenty of which had been spent talking about his mentor and his own first day of school. His eyes began to shift to his watch every other minute, a key sign that he had plans for his afternoon.

After taking his vitals, I looked over the wound and listened to his breathing for two minutes. I agreed with Alfred that he was doing well, but was still in danger of a respiratory tract infection from the smoke inhalation. I recommended that he keep up with the steam breathing, to up the inhaler to twice daily and the second that he experienced fever or mucus discharge to come back for an antibiotic script.

Being the gentleman that he was, he kissed me on the cheek, thanked me and promised to behave himself. Just like a six-year-old boy once did after taking a small wax paper bag of green sweets from my hands.

V

While everyone had else had spent the morning at the mall shopping, I had been in the Cave, working through my routines. I had my shopping done, thanks to Barbara's encouragement, so I didn't have to go.

When Barbara had been invited, she had asked me. She also had listed who was going to be there and when Tim's name was recited, I was tempted. But declined. I really wasn't in the mood to be around a lot of people anyway.

A little after five, I called it quits, showered, changed and went upstairs. The house was quiet and only the hall lights were on, so I deduced they had yet to return. I stopped at the kitchen, poured a glass of cranberry juice and spotted a slip of paper on the counter. Its corner was pinned by a small plate of peanut butter cookies.

I picked it up and read it to myself: Miss Cassandra, I have left for Dr. Thompkins for the evening and should return around eleven. I am unaware of the arrival of the remaining members of the household, so if need be, you may contact myself at Dr. Thompkins' household number or Master Bruce on his cellular telephone. There is a prepared diner in the oven if you are famished from your day's efforts. Alfred.

Dinner was a still warm plate of grilled chicken cutlets on a bed of pilaf and steamed vegetables. I wasn't really all that hungry for once and decided to leave it for later. Instead, I refilled my glass and headed for the den for part of the 007 Days of Christmas marathon.

Being alone in the house meant I could turn the surround sound up and sprawl out on the big leather couch. That was why I was surprised to see my spot already taken and the TV tuned into the wrong marathon: I Love the 90's.

"Thought you were shopping?" I asked as I stepped into the room.

Tim shot up quickly and looked over at me, "Jesus, Cass. I thought no one was here."

"Me, too. Is everyone else home?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to spike, "No, I had a meeting, left the mall early to go to it and then came up here to help Bruce finish the lights."

I smirked and sat down on the couch next to him, "Ah. Yeah, glad it's you and not me."

He shrugged, "I figure if it goes to pieces this time, the next one will be a piece of cake. Third times a charm right?"

I looked over at him, "Keep dreaming."

"I told my dad about it and he thought it was hilarious, said it serves me right. Then Dana asked why we he wouldn't put lights on our house… The face he made was priceless. So now next year I get to help him put lights up and Bruce."

"Have fun with that. Next year I'm sticking to decorating the tree and cookies." We were quiet for a bit before I continued, "So who was the meeting with?"

"Leslie. Alfred wanted her to check me out."

"Ah, what did she say?" I asked before sipping my juice.

"That I'll be all right as long as I do what the doctor tells me."

I paused, "How's your back?"

"Fine," he replied quickly, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Grouch. I leaned over and tugged at his shirt, "How can you tell? You can't even see it."

"I can, too. It's fine."

Shaking my head, I muttered, "Right," before tugging up his shirt and catching the faintest glimpse of white gauze. He pushed it down and looked over at me, almost looking embarrassed. To put him at ease, I said, "What? It's not like I haven't seen you with a lot less."

The beginning of a blush was coming to his cheeks as he looked over at me once more. I realized that I had only made it worse. We had never really talked about that night at the Clocktower, but I had truly thought that it hadn't been that big of a deal. I knew then that I was the only one who felt that way.

Knowing he wasn't going to speak up, I did, "Did it bother you? What happened."

Tim shifted on the couch and then looked over at me again, "I don't know. I've tried not to think about it too much…" his eyes fell to the floor as a smirk grew on his lips, "Then again, I haven't really tried all that hard."

I dared a touch of his hand with mine and withdrew once his eyes were on me, "Don't think too hard on it. I didn't. I don't have to. There's not many people I would have done that with."

In fact, he was the only one I would have…

"Tim, you in here?" Selina's voice came down the hall. We both looked towards the door just as she entered, "Oh, hi guys. Tim, Bruce is going to change and then whenever you're ready he'll meet you on the roof."

"Thanks, I'll be up in a few."

She looked at us for a second longer and then turned back to the hall and disappeared. Tim paused then stood, "Well, I guess that's my cue… Listen, we should… would you want to… Uh, come over. For dinner some time."

I stood as well, stepped towards him and replied, "Sure."

He paused, opened his mouth as if he was going to reply and then nodded at me before briskly walking out of the room. I collapsed onto the couch and reached over for the remote. After keying in the channel, I smiled to see the opening credits of Goldfinger, one of my favorite Connery Bond films. I'm not sure what really drew me to the genre, surely the action was great and the global threats were intriguing, but I guess it all boiled down to one thing.

Just one more instance where the bad guy gets a taste of his own medicine in the end.

V

"Hand me the staple gun," Bruce grunted, trying to keep his footing on an icy patch of the roof.

I did so and he mumbled something that might have been gratitude. A lot of people took offense to Bruce's bearish ways, but then again a lot of people didn't know him or trust him like I did.

We had been risking our lives up on the roof of Wayne Manor for nearly an hour. The chilly wind had been keeping us company, dropping the actual temperature to a below freezing wind chill. With ten strands up and four to go, our conversation had dipped to practically nothing, aside from quiet requests or the occasional hushed curse as either of us slipped.

"So you saw Leslie today."

Even though I knew he hadn't meant it as a question, I answered, "Yeah, she said everything looks fine, no sign of infection or anything."

"That's good," he connected the strand we had just finished tacking on with the previous one. As he walked back towards me, he slipped once, swore and then continued. "It's never the inhalation that's of concern, it's the secondary pneumonia."

Like I was going to argue.

"She said my back was fine, but not to push the exercise until it's healed more," I smiled, "Even threatened me that if he needed additional stitches, she would refuse me and send me back to Alfred."

I noticed a half smirk on Bruce's lips, no doubt recalling hundreds of times Alfred had to tend to his wounds a second time, "Ouch."

"My thoughts exactly. So I figure I'll have Alfred take another look at it in a few days, then get back into the swing of things."

He nodded, but had turned his face away from me slightly so I couldn't see his expression. It was generally the best indicator of what was going on in his mind and without it I was in the dark, until he spoke up, "Fine."

One strand later, I asked, "So, they book that Santa creep from this afternoon?"

Bruce replied, "Yeah, he can't afford bail though, so he'll be spending the night in city lock-up until he can find someone to take pity on him."

"Like his elves," I smirked.

"I fear some sort of 'Free Santa' group that will get him out. I can't believe those people didn't recognize him."

I was unraveling the remainder of the light string we working on as I said, "Well, not everyone memorizes the faces of criminals…" the scowl on his face encouraged me to add, "But they should."

We were nearly done when he unexpectedly sat down and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his coat. I wanted to ask if he as all right, but I figured he would shove me off the house if I did. Instead, I sat beside him and buttoned my coat up to my chin, "Winds finally dying."

Bruce acknowledged me with a slight nod, "Supposed to snow later. Should make patrols interesting."

"Cass going out with you?"

"Yeah, we're heading out after I get done here."

"One thing after another," I mumbled, not intending it for his ears. I should have known better.

"That's life," he paused before continuing, "Listen, I've been meaning to ask you… You and Batgirl were involved in the fire more than I was… I was wondering, how do you think the new foam pellets worked?"

Unexpected, but whatever. "Well, I deployed about a dozen of them in total and for the most part they were effective but…"

"But what?"

"Well, it seemed as if they didn't cover enough of the flame when they exploded… I'm not sure if it's the shape of the capsule or the concentration, but maybe if it were altered, I don't know. It just seemed like I had to use more capsules to kill the base of the fire."

Not everyday you bash an invention to its inventor.

"Good point. Why don't you take this down time, work on some schematics."

I suddenly realized how odd this conversation was. Bruce Wayne/Batman was asking me to work on improving one of his inventions, of which must have been perfect in his eye in order to provide to us to use. Perhaps it was colder than I thought and I was delirious with hypothermia…

"Sure, no problem. I can get started tonight."

I watched as he rubbed his hands together quickly and then searched his coat pockets until he pulled out a pair of leather gloves. As he donned them he asked, "Was there anything else… that seemed ineffective?"

This was getting a little on the awkward side. Time to shake things up, "Aside from the fact that sweating and Kevlar don't mix?" The smirk on his face was worth the weirdness of the conversation.

"Boys, you dead up there?" a call came from down below. We both peered over the edge to see Selina and Mattie standing just outside the service entrance of the mansion, bundled in coats and scarves.

"Don't fall, Dad!" Mattie giggled.

He stood and replied, "I'll try not to. Will you catch me if I do?"

"No way, Jose!" she replied as she began packing snowballs.

I remembered when it was strange watching Bruce interact with his daughter, seeing him "normal". But after five years, it would be strange to not see it. We finished hanging the remaining lights and double-checked the connections as we made our way back towards the ladder. He let me go down first and followed shortly after. I tried not to make it obvious, but I looked up occasionally and watched as he moved. We had been sitting for less than twenty minutes and because I knew him and trusted him as much as I did, I saw the stiffness. For my own piece of mind, I ignored it, summed it up to the fact that I was a little stiff myself and the skin-numbing cold wasn't any help.

Once we were both on the ground, Mattie trampled through the snow and attacked Bruce's legs. He bent over and heft her up into his arms as s he asked, "Can we see the lights now, Dad?"

"Sure thing. Tim why don't you hit the switch?"

I nodded and approached the wall were there was a covered utility box. I opened the door and checked the plug in the outlet before flipping the switch up into the on position. And after fourteen strands of lights, a total of two thousand, eight hundred white bulbs, two nights of decorating and five days before Christmas Day, Wayne Manor was finally dressed with its holiday cheer.

"Very nice, boys. Job well done," Selina commented as we approached her. Bruce stepped up next to her and shifted his daughter in his arms. She leaned over and kissed his cheek briefly before continuing, "Well, I'm freezing my butt off, Mattie let's go make some hot cocoa."

"Yeah!" she practically leapt out of Bruce's arms, but he held on to her long enough to get her to the ground. She skipped towards the house and looked back as Bruce and I stood in the snow. "Are you coming? It's cold out, you know."

Bruce agreed, "That it is," he turned to me, "Are you heading home?"

"Come, on Tim, you have to have cocoa with me."

Selina paused at the door and cleared her throat, "Why don't you try that again, young lady."

Mattie sighed, then looked over at me, "Please have hot cocoa with me, Tim."

"I would love to," I replied and quickly walked over to follow them into the entrance room. Bruce was a few strides behind and I held the door for him until he caught up. As we removed our coats and snow covered shoes, I said, "Hey, Bruce, I have another suggestion."

"Oh?"

"Next year, I think you should splurge and pay Connor to hang up the lights."

He grunted, "Connor as in Kent."

"The one and only. If he gets too out of hand, you could always whip out the K ring and give him a noogie or something," his disbelief was broadcasted all over his face, "Seriously, I'd rather have him fall than me. At least he could fly back up there."

"I'll keep it in mind."

I was about to say something to the fact that it was the second time he had take my suggestions to heart in less than an hour but decided against it. Hot cocoa with a five year old and not pushing my luck with her father seemed to be the better course of action.

V

"I'm still not talking to you," Barbara's stern voice came over the comm. link.

I crouched beside an air duct on the roof of the Ritz before speaking again, "I apologized, what more can I do?"

"I don't know, Bruce, but until I do, I'm not talking to you," she snapped, all the while the background filled with the clatter of keyboards being assaulted.

Dropping my voice an octave I growled, "Fine." There was a long silence, but I knew she hadn't broken the connection. Two could play at that…

We didn't speak to each other for over an hour as I finished the northwest corner of the city. On my own for patrols, I had expected more work but had been met with less. Then again it was Christmas Eve and even the coldest of criminals had enough heart and mind left to stay home.

Selina had pleaded with me to stay home, but with Tim not returning until Saturday night and Cassandra staying home after the onset of an upper respiratory infection, I had to hold down things on my own. I did, however, tell her I would do my best to be home by three. She agreed, and had also added that if I got into bed with cold feet, I was going to be receiving coal in my stocking.

As I made my way to the Batmobile in order to better patrol the streets, I thought on the gift I had arranged for Selina. The Preserve was flourishing, although it took up a great deal of Selina's time, the investment had been well worth it. There were fourteen cats on the property, each in excellent condition. There was a young bobcat amputee who had lost a hind limb due to a gunshot wound. Mattie had named him Lucky and in light of my greatest fears, they were becoming fast friends. Selina assured me he was a "sweetheart" and that Mattie had only interacted with him while under sedation following veterinarian examinations.

Still…

Among the extended feline family, there were no tigers, a favorite of Selina's. But as of four in the afternoon on Christmas Day, the Preserve would become home to a pair of six month old Siberian tigers that had been raised from birth in Montana but needed a larger and more permanent home. And as much as I hated the concept of gifts, this was one that I had actually enjoyed working on.

"Boss?"

"I thought we weren't talking?" I replied as I pulled out of the alley and onto the main drag.

"Whatever. Report just came through of two stolen taxi vans from the airport. Grand theft is responding, do you want in on it?"

I asked the condition of the cab owners and she elaborated, "Two men armed with knives approached the cabs at the stand, ushered the drivers out and then sped off… Oh, wait…. Two units caught up with them on Sussex, pulled them over… Never mind. I'll find you something else."

The LCD on the panel said the time was five past midnight. Officially Christmas. In less than two weeks, Mattie would have her fifth Christmas and her sixth birthday. Selina had plans of a party, of which would include all twenty of Mattie's classmates. Apparently, you were not allowed to invite a select few, it was the whole class or none. I suggested the latter and had received icy and identical stares from my wife and daughter.

So it was twenty-one kindergartners, ice cream cake and a Sponge Bob Squarepants themed birthday party.

I was already praying for some sort of global emergency that would have the members of the Justice League at my door begging for my help.

By one-thirty, I had investigated three calls of any interest, all of which panned out to practically nothing. A stolen vehicle had turned out to be illegally parked and had been towed. A drunken dispute had nearly erupted into an all out brawl between two brothers, all over who had spent the most on their mother's gifts. The last had been the only one I had actually stepped in on, an armed robbery of a small grocery store. The perps had fled on foot, leaving fresh tracks in the snow. It took less than fifteen minutes to chase hunt them down, scare the life from them and to call it in to dispatch.

Overall, not too bad.

Years ago, I was discouraged by quiet nights when crime activity was low. Recently, I have found myself to cherish them. Being away from home brought back ancient memories of my father being ensnared for hours in the surgery room, away from his family. As a child I had been angry at him, but now that I was in his shoes, I knew it had been unjustified. Every minute away from my child was agony. I could only imagine what it was like for him, saving the lives of others when all he wanted to be was home with us…

Selina had tried to push the guilt factor onto me several times over the last five years, even though I had been doing it to myself without her knowing. When Mattie was still an infant, she had donned her own cowl in order to return to the city's nightlife. I had been infuriated at her actions and we had ended up a heated brawl over the matter. In the end, I had laid it as simple as possible: she did not need to risk her life now that she was a parent.

She had countered with the fact that neither of us did.

"You there?" Barbara asked.

"No," I replied.

"Good. I'm going to call it quits. I'll see you tomorrow morning, nine sharp."

"What?"

"Breakfast is at nine, didn't Selina tell you?"

"Fine, whatever."

"Good night, Scrooge."

I paused and shifted in my seat, "Good night."

Not truly ready to head back to Bristol for the night, I decided to cruise the remainder of the city, letting my thoughts drift as my eyes gazed out at the snowy streets. As I made my way through Bryanttown, I realized that it was my twentieth Christmas as Batman. My fifth as a husband. Sixth as a father… No, my mind echoed with images of a gangly ten year old boy… Eighteenth as a father. Thirty-fourth without my parents…

The years surely added up.

I depressed a telephone link button in the console and said "Home." After a muted dialing sounded, there were two rings and then Selina's voice, "Whuh… Oh, hi."

"Figured I'd call and tell you I'll be on my way home shortly."

I listened as she yawned, "What a sweetheart. I've been wrapping gifts, but I should have it all finished by the time you get back. Oh, and I have a surprise for you, call it an early gift."

I smirked, "Oh really?"

"Yep. And as much as you would like to think, it's not that gift."

I feigned disappointment, "Oh. Well in that case, I think I'll tour the city once more, just in case."

"Don't even think it. Besides, Barbara said there wasn't anything happening anyway."

As I pulled onto the St. James North, I asked, "When did you talk to her?"

She paused and I could hear the rustle of wrapping paper, "Isis, no! I already gave you a bow to play with. What, oh, she called me like an hour ago, said she was bored from not talking to you. Listen I have to go, Isis just took off with a bag of bows."

"See you in a few."

"Bye, hon."

Five years down with her, who knew how many were yet to come.

V

After quickly hanging up the phone, I rolled off of the bed and dashed after Isis. She had made it a few yards down the hall and had already begun to shred the bag of bows. Scraps of shiny pieces decorated the floor and shimmered under the dimmed lights.

"Bad kitty," I sighed as I knelt in front of her. She looked up with glowing eyes, mewed softly and went back to work on the bows. I managed to get the bag from her but she scooted off with one of the large silver ones, leaving me to clean up her mess.

Ten minutes later I was back in the bedroom, hands full of scraps. I dumped them in a small trashcan in the bathroom and on my way back to the bedroom, I caught a look at myself in the mirror. Hair in a loose bun had spilled out; the make up I had donned over twenty hours earlier was nonexistent and the rumpled long sleeved cotton shirt of Bruce's that I had borrowed did nothing for my frame.

Stunning.

Having tucked Mattie in a little after eight, of which had been a battle in itself, I had wished Alfred good night shortly there after. For nearly six hours it had been just me and my thoughts, of which never ended up being a good thing. Aside from wrapping a few remaining gifts, I had reviewed some paperwork for the Preserve and had updated a few progress reports on the newest arrivals. Keeping up with the care of the property and the residents had proved to be fairly time consuming, but definitely worth it. It had always been a necessity of mine to do something constructive with my skills, whether it was to torture the wealthy creeps of Gotham's penthouses or to give a home to big cats. Or raising a daughter.

As I filled Mattie's stocking with colored pencils, bubble gum and a pair of purple fleece socks, I had a sudden urge to check in on her. She'd been back on the kick of having nightmares, nothing too terrible, but still troubling. At first I thought it had been a ruse in order to sleep with Bruce, but with the bouts recurring at different intervals, we had both decided she was having trouble sleeping. Bruce had worked with her last summer about relaxation and self-hypnosis in order to help calm herself during asthma attacks.

So just before bed, he would help her get into a relaxed stage so that sleeping would be easier. That night, he had left to get ready for patrols shortly after dinner and I had done my best to work with her but I still wondered when my bedroom door was going to open to a teary eyed five year old.

After setting her stocking aside several gifts that had to go downstairs, I moved back to the bed and reached for the quilt at the ed of the bed. After covering myself, I reached for the remote on the bedside table and pressed a green button. Soft music filtered in from the overhead speakers. As much as I wanted to wait for Bruce to get home, sleeping seemed to be an equally enticing idea. The second I closed my eyes, though, I knew he would walk into the room…

I felt a pair of claws on my back and I rolled over to see that Isis had returned, no doubt looking for a truce. I scratched her chin and tented the blanket so she could crawl under. She settled around my ankles, the flicking of her tail tickled my toes.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, I was left alone again.

For no known reason, I reached out from under the blanket and pulled Bruce's pillow closer to me. Having been with Bruce for seven years, it was far too common for me to fall asleep with him still out in the night. I sighed, thinking out of our time together, we had only shared a year where our relationship did not include Batman, and unfortunately it had been the same year when he had nearly died.

And although I was glad for him to be back in the life that he loved…

For as long as I had known him, Bruce had used his dual lives as barriers in order to keep people he cared about at a safe distance. He also used them in order to deny problems that he did not care to admit to. If physically possible, he would be Batman for the rest of his life, make his differences in whatever way he could, all the while letting problems in his own life carry on because he didn't want to deal with them.

Exhibit A: Richard Grayson.

I had brought up the topic of his eldest son on three occasions since Thanksgiving, each of which had earned me a glare and/or a grunt. The last time I had brought it up, it had been after speaking with a supervising officer in Bludhaven that had expressed concerns about "Detective Grayson's continuing excessive investment of his time and energy" into his case. I was able to obtain a few more details that neither I nor Barbara had been unable to pry from Dick and when I relayed them to Bruce he had commented briefly that he would look into it.

Right… At least I knew he would actually have to do something in the morning, whether he wanted to or not.

Still chilled, even with the blanket, I rolled out of bed and wished that Bruce was home so I had something warmer than Isis to snuggle with. I was rummaging in the dresser for a pair of flannel pants when I heard the door creak. As I turned, I was surprised to see my nightmare-riddled daughter, but the robe clad form of my husband. I pulled out a pair of navy blue pants and donned them as I greeted him, "What, did you speed?"

"A little," he shrugged and walked over to me. I had expected him to look tired, but for a pleasant change he actually seemed all right. I stood kissed his cheek and smiled when he wrapped his arms around my lower back, "So, this early gift you mentioned?"

"Yes, what about it?" I asked as I kissed his jaw.

He paused and looked down at me, "Can I see it?"

I nodded, slipped out of his hold and walked out of the room. When he didn't follow me, I called out, "You coming or not?"

Not a second later, he was at my side and already confused. Luckily, this gift had sort of come into its own and had been one I had definitely not expected. Nor had Bruce. I took his hand as we neared the end of the hall and then lead him down the stairs to the second floor.

"I have to ask, what exactly is this gift?" he asked as we walked down the dark hallway.

"I can't tell you, you can wait five seconds and see for yourself. No be quiet,"

"Yes, dear."

"Shh," I growled.

I almost laughed when he responded with a hushed voce, "Yes, dear."

Although I could have turned the hall lights on, at least the dim ones, I let us move on in the dark. Besides, I didn't want to risk disturbing our guest. At the second to last door on the right I paused and squeezed Bruce's hand. He stopped as well and I knew it was all coming together for him. There was only one person who had ever slept in the room we stood outside of, and that same person was currently in there, snoring away a well-deserved rest. I cracked the door open and stepped aside so that Bruce could peer inside. A bedside lamp was still on, casting a soft glow over Dick's body. He was lying on his stomach, arm dangling over the edge, with the blankets around his waist.

He had showed up at the front door a little before one, practically dead on his feet with a small overnight bag and an over stuffed attaché case in his hands. He mumbled "Merry Christmas" and asked if would mind if he spent the night. After I hugged him for three minutes, squeezing the life out of the poor guy no doubt, I ushered him upstairs, set him up for the night and left him in peace.

Bruce looked over at me, and for the first time in far too long, I wasn't able to tell what he was feeling. Usually everything was discernable just by looking at his eyes, but right then it was impossible.

That was until I watched as he slowly walked into the room, turned the lamp off and pulled the blankets up over Dick's shoulders.

He was just surprised to his son on Christmas.

V

Yeah, so now that school is out and the holidays are over, I am seriously indulging in some ficcin'. I promise!!!!


	10. One And Only: X

Title: One And Only: X

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: The events in Dick's POV are reflect on those found in David Simon's "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets"

V

So stupid.

I was standing in front of a full length mirror in my bedroom, obsessing over whether or not to wear a collared shirt with a sweater or whether to go with a plain old long-sleeved tee. All the while worried if I had put on enough or perhaps too much cologne.

What the hell was my problem? I was Robin. I had faced off with each and every Rogue in Gotham, not to mention the garden-variety killers and criminals. I had survived the Clench. Hell, I could hack into the CIA databases if I wanted to.

And there I was freaking out over how I looked all for one very stupid reason.

Cass was coming over.

I suppose that in itself was not the sole reason. Originally, my plan was to have pizza, maybe watch a movie or hit up the XBox and possibly get to talking about things we seriously needed to stop avoiding. All in the solitude of my house, free of parental units. That was until my dad and Dana decided to stay home because of a winter weather advisory.

"Tim, what's this, 'C at 7'?"

I smoothed out the long sleeved shirt I had put on for the third time and looked up, "What?"

Dad had been standing in my doorway and had glanced over at a calendar I had above my desk. A week after New Year's I had finally summed up the courage to ask her over. I had denoted our non-date so that I wouldn't have an excuse to forget it. Had he looked at the following day, he could have asked about "Mattie's B. Day Party 1-4."

"Uh, nothing," I finally replied, "Just a friend coming over."

"Oh, that's um… fine. Listen, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes…"

I cleared my throat, "Actually, we were going to order a pizza and just hang out in here."

A look came over his face that could only be categorized as being forlorn. I had never really had a strong relationship with my father, mostly because I had been forced to lie to him for so many years on just about everything in my life. And things had only worsened when I had finally told him the truth about my double life two years ago, offering him peace by promising never to keep anything from him again.

Unfortunately, I had been sneaking around his back, looking for a place of my own to live. I knew he wanted to keep tabs on me while I was still in college, but with us butting antlers on what I was supposed to do with my life, I figured distance would be a safe way to break any bad news to him in the future.

"Oh, well, whatever… If you change your mind, it's lamb chops," he said as he turned and headed down the hall.

I paused then called out, "Thanks."

A glance at my watch told me it was quarter of seven. I did a few breathing exercises to calm myself and to bide my time until Cass showed up. Everything was going to be fine. It was dinner, some down time and maybe a nice quiet chat…

The second my ears detected the doorbell, I sprang from my bed, dashed down the hall nearly tripping over Trixie, Dana's French Bulldog, and slid to a stop in front of the door. I allowed myself a deep breath before I opened it. The snow was actually coming down in significant amounts and the wind was doing its best to drop the temperature to sub-zero numbers. Had I been looking, I would have realized that Barbara had let Cass drive the Hummer up, but I wasn't looking at the driveway.

"Can I come in?" she asked, shivering in a down waist length coat.

"Uh yeah," I managed before stepping to the side and letting her in. I quickly shut the door as another gust breezed by. Unsure as what else to say I asked, "Was the drive out bad?"

Cass shook her head, sending off droplets of melting snow. When she took her coat off she stood and stared at me for a moment before asking what to do with it. I opened up the coat closet and took it from her. Real suave, Casanova, I thought to myself as I shut the closet door.

"Okay, let's give you the dime tour," I smirked and lead the way into the den. Cass had never been to my house, in fact very few people had simply because I was rarely there to do anything other than sleep or eat. The rear of the den opened up into a small lounge area and beyond that was the kitchen. In the adjacent rear corner was a broad hall that lead towards the stairs and a few first floor rooms, including mine.

Just as I began to lead the way towards my room, I heard a buzzer go off in the kitchen and a soft feminine voice, "Oh, crap."

We both looked over in time to see Dana, garbed in a beige apron and oven mitts, nearly drop a glass pan of what must have been the remnants of the chops Dad had mentioned. I had been victim to a number of Cook Dana's meals, and as a result I cherished every single scrap of food that Alfred made for me.

"I thought we were having pizza?"

"We are. I wouldn't put you through that…"

Cass threw me a glare, "Why is she cooking then?"

I tried to usher her down the hallway but she was in place for the moment, "Well they're having whatever that is…"

I felt her hand on my arm, "Hey, I don't see you cooking." She had me there. "Why can't we eat together?"

Oh boy.

Thirteen minutes later, my father asked, "Tim, can you pass the salad?"

The four-course meal that Dana had started at a little before six had ended with a bowl of lettuce and sliced green peppers, a plate of scorched baked potatoes and three somewhat salvageable chops. I handed him the bowl of greens and went back to work on blending sour cream with my poor potato.

Dana put down her wine glass and said, "Well this is nice, eating together…" a silence was our reply. She continued, "So Cassandra, do you go to GSU?"

I glanced over as Cass thought before replying, "Not at the moment. I traveled abroad this summer, though, worked with a number of professionals for some more… advanced training."

My father mumbled, "Training… Oh, that…"

"How interesting," Dana smiled and saved the moment while she repositioned the napkin on her lap, "And now that you're back in Gotham, what are your plans?"

This was insane. What was Cass going to say, bust up some bad guys? I held my breath as she answered, "Well, I have done some online courses and I hope to work on a business degree… I would like to someday manage a fitness or martial arts center of some sort."

My father nodded, "There you go. A master plan. You ought to help Tim figure life out so he can figure something out."

"Dad," I said, my voice freakishly reminding me of when I was thirteen.

"Sorry, but it's true," he elaborated before getting to work on his salad, "Playing on your computer and switching majors doesn't really count as a master plan."

Cass snickered quietly and shrugged when our eyes met. Before I could defend my pointless life, the phone rang. After no one made a move for it, I excused myself and answered it. The second I picked up the portable from the kitchen, I walked back towards the dining room and paused in the entranceway. It wasn't until I heard, "Uh, hello?" did I realize I had yet to answer.

"Drake residence."

"Tim, it's Selina. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

I did my best to pay attention to the happenings in the dining room as I replied, "No, just eating dinner."

"Oh, sorry. I was just making sure you were still planning on coming up tomorrow afternoon."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. Well, I'll let you go. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

In a less than graceful move, I dashed back, hung up the phone and returned to my seat just in time to hear the beginning of a conversation I had dreaded. My father had instigated it, "So, you're a Cain. Any relation to the Cains in Boston?"

She replied, "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

"Oh, that's a pity. When we summered in Martha's Vineyard last year we met them. Really nice people, own some line of pharmaceuticals," Dana commented before asking, "So what do your parents do?"

Could this possibly get ay more uncomfortable?

Cass handled it flawlessly, though, saying how she had been raised by her father and they had parted ways when she was younger. She had even gone as far as describing David Cain as being an independent contractor… I guess that worked on some level. Assassin for hire could be counted as that.

Just like my after school job in high school had been upper level youth safety patrol.

The talk quickly turned to outside interests and Dana was surprised how much Cassandra liked working with children. As they went on about how adorable Mattie was, I sat stoically in disbelief that things were running smoothly, wondering when it would all go up in flame. Like the lamb chops that Cass had complimented Dana on at least twice.

V

"Has it been a half hour yet?" I asked, doing my best not to fidget. Mom didn't like it when I did but I couldn't help it sometimes, I really couldn't.

"Yep, get a towel from the bathroom," she said as she slipped on Dad's housecoat. I always thought it was funny, how she would wear Dad's stuff. I tried on one of his shirts once and it came to my toes.

I had been sitting on Mom and Dad's bed in my bathing suit and a pair of flip flops waiting thirty minutes to pass after dinner so I could go downstairs to swim with Dad. I hopped off the bed, skipped down the hall and picked out a yellow and blue towel that had a picture of Sponge Bob on it. It was my favorite one.

By the time I came back out in the hall, Mom had come out of her room and had headed towards the stairs. I caught up with her after a few bounds and then latched on to her hand as we made our way down. The pool was in the back of the house and had huge windows, so once we got on the ground floor we turned left and headed that way.

Mom pushed open the double doors of the poolroom and I snuck in before her. When I looked into the pool, I didn't see Dad at first and wondered if he had already gotten out. Then I saw him, under the water in the deep end. I walked over closer and saw that he was swimming upside down almost on the bottom of the pool. As I sat on the edge I waved down to him and giggled when he waved back.

Dad finally came up for air and swam right up next to me. As he removed his goggles he looked over at Mom, "Not coming in?"

I looked over at her and then back at Dad before I shrugged. She walked over next to me and sat down as well, letting her legs hang into the water, "No, I figured I would play spectator this round. Besides I have some things to take care of for tomorrow."

I bounced a bit, "Birthday things?"

"Maybe," she smiled.

"Yeah!" I laughed. I couldn't wait for my birthday party. Everyone from school was coming to it and there was going to be an ice cream cake and games and all sorts of things. And Dad promised to be there for the whole time.

"Well, you ready?" he asked as he pushed off of the wall and treaded water in the middle of the pool.

I nodded and stood before handing my towel to Mom. From there, I walked as quickly as I could without running because you couldn't do that around the pool. I wanted to jump in and do a cannonball like Tim taught me over the summer but I knew Dad didn't like me jumping in. Instead, I walked around to the steps and hopped down each one until I was all the way in the water.

The water was actually kind of warm and I splashed a bit before waving at Mom. She smiled and moved her legs back in forth in the water. When I looked over to where Dad had been, I noticed he was gone. Before I could look under the water, I felt him swim by and giggled when his fingers touched my ankle.

"Dad," I smiled as he surfaced next to me, "That tickled."

"Oh, did it?"

I nodded before diving under the water, aiming my hands at his feet. In the shallow end he was practically sitting on the floor where I had to stand on my toes to keep my head above the water. I managed to touch one leg before he swam off towards deeper water. The deepest I had ever been was eight feet and that had been with Dad right next to me. My friends at school were just starting to learn to swim in lessons but I had been at it since I was three and a half.

I swam out to follow him, using the crawl stroke. I liked the butterfly one better but it wasn't as fast. He stopped and treaded at just about the six-foot mark and when I caught up I did the same.

Mom stood up and set my towel on a nearby lounge chair, "Well, I'll let you two chlorinate. You're in charge of Dad, Mattie."

I laughed and said, "Okay Mom."

After she had left the poolroom I moved back away from Dad and did a quick flip in the water. When I was upside down, I noticed a few reflections on the bottom of the pool. Coins. Whenever Dad was in the pool, he usually swam a lot of laps if I wasn't going to join him. I also knew he threw coins into the water and would go under and collect them all before coming back up for air.

When I came back up, I fixed my hair with one hand and treaded with the other. After a deep breath, I asked, "How many coins are down there?"

"Fourteen," he said quietly, but his voice still echoed softly in the big room, "Why?"

"I don't know. Just wondering, I guess. Can we do a submarine?" After he nodded, I swam closer to him and crawled up onto his shoulders. He then dipped below the water so that he was completely under and only my lower half was. I was glad that he made two full loops around the pool, even going all the way to the really deep part that was twelve feet.

When I slipped off of his shoulders, he turned onto his back and came up for a breath, just as I dove down in the water, aiming for a quarter.

He dove down as well, no doubt worried that I wouldn't be able to get it. I looked up at him just before I latched onto the coin and stuck my tongue out with a grin on my face. Dad looked at me, completely surprised, sort of like when I did handstands while he was talking on the phone.

We both reached the surface at the same time and I handed him the coin, "That's one."

Together, we retrieved the remaining coins and put them in a pile on the edge of the pool. Once they all had been found, Dad got out of the pool and dried off. I asked if I could stay in a little longer to work on my underwater handstands and he said it was fine.

Before I began practicing, I looked up as he walked away from me and towards robe he had laid out over a chair. Even though I never asked about it, I always wondered what accident he was in to cause so many scars. My friend Alicia at school had an uncle that was in a car accident and she said he had weird scars too. Maybe that's what happened… Must have been pretty bad though because he had a lot of them.

He gave me another ten minutes before asking me to get out. Dad wrapped the towel around my shoulders as I put my flip-flops on and then lifted me up so I could hit the light switch off. He said for me to go upstairs and pick out pajamas while he got my medicine and something to drink. As I started up the stairs, he called out, "Ask Mom to start a bath." I walked up to my room, picked out a blue shirt and matching shorts and then quickly trotted over to my parents' room, hoping to catch a glimpse of an unwrapped gift or two.

Unfortunately, Mom had picked everything up and was sitting in bed reading a magazine. Since I was still in my wet suit and towel, I decided not to jump on the bed and instead ran around and stood next to her. She leaned back and kissed my cheek, "How was you're swim, fishy?"

I made fishy lips and she smiled at me, "It was fun. Dad said for you to start my bath."

"Oh did he?" she looked at her watch before continuing, "Well, I guess we should get on that, it's almost passed your bedtime."

"Can't I stay up to watch Sponge Bob? Please… "

Mom got off of the bed and put the magazine on her pillow before leading me towards the door, "And why should you get to stay up to watch Sponge Bob?"

"Cause I'm the birthday girl," I looked up at her as sweetly as possible.

She tousled my hair and said, "Good try. We'll have to ask and see what Dad says."

We were halfway through my bath before Dad returned. When I asked him if I could stay up late, he said for me to ask my mother. These two were impossible sometimes. Mom and Dad then looked at each other, didn't say a single word before they spoke at the same time. Dad said yes and Mom said no.

A powerful pout and a few "Please, please, please…" 's later, Mom sighed and said I could, for one episode. Most of the time, if I stayed up, she would watch it with me, since Dad usually had things to do for work. And as much as I liked to be with Dad, it was hard to watch cartoons with him, because you always had to explain things. Like why Patrick wore shorts and why Sponge Bob lived in a pineapple.

He just thought too much, that's why he liked the news and the weather channel.

V

I had planned on greeting my daughter in her room the morning of her birthday, but she had gotten up an hour before the time I had set the alarm for.

"Happy Birthday, kitten," I smiled as she crawled into bed between Selina and I and quickly burrowed under the covers. She wrapped her slender arms around my neck and mumbled something into my chest before putting her head into the pillow. As I rubbed her back, I looked over to see Selina still sleeping and when I tapped her on the shoulder, she growled and pulled the blankets over her head. A glance at the clock said it was a little before eight.

I closed my eyes, hoping to be able to doze for a few more minutes. The next time I opened them, the women were gone and had been replaced by two cats pawing at one another. When they realized I was awake, both stared at me motionlessly before resuming their never-ending battle of who was top cat. After stretching and getting out of bed, I looked over to the clock and grunted softly. Quarter after ten. So much for a few more minutes.

A quick shower and shave later I headed down the stairs in search of my family. In less than three hours, Mattie's birthday party would commence. Unfortunately, Alfred decided to take the day to himself in order to assist Leslie at the clinic's monthly blood drive. When I thought about it though, I figured it was all right but Selina said he was fleeing the ship before it sank.

I found them in the kitchen nook, decorating cupcakes with yellow and peach colored frosting and sprinkles. As my presence was acknowledged, Selina looked over at me, "There's fresh coffee, Bruce. Do you want anything for breakfast?"

"I can manage," I said as I passed through the door into the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," she replied.

The remainder of the day before the party was spent in solitude. Mattie and Selina prepared the snacks and party favors for the guests while I sat in the den watching the news and reviewing the various newspapers I received every day. At half-past eleven, they ventured into my quiet time and began to decorate the den. A scowl from Selina encouraged me to ask, "How can I help?"

Armed with a tank of helium and a bag of fifty assorted balloons, I was dubbed the Balloon Boy by my daughter and was put to work. Just as I had filled the last one, and handed it to Mattie the phone rang and Selina left to answer it.

"This is going to be a lot of fun, Dad," Mattie stated pointedly before climbing onto my lap, "Just like the zoo, only at home."

After an involuntary twitch of my eyebrow, I managed, "I hope so, did you figure out what activities you want to do this afternoon?"

She nodded quickly, "We're going to watch Sponge Bob and play Twister and then we're going to make snow men and go sledding and have snacks and play games and eat cake."

I had to do my best to keep from smiling. She had been a major part of planning the party, helping make the important decisions that would affect the level of fun for all. I was about to ask her if she wanted to have a light lunch before everyone arrived just as Selina returned and paused in the doorway, "Bruce, can I see you for a minute."

Mattie slid off and I told her to pick out a few games from the credenza in the back of the room. When I was within a yard of Selina, I noticed her jaw was clenched and her eyes were glassy. A signalment that something was seriously wrong. I took her by the elbow and gently guided her into the hall, "What's wrong?"

"I, uh," she hugged herself slightly, "That was Holly… She was in a car accident and she can't get a hold of Dave and she didn't know who else to call…"

I paused thinking of the petite blonde haired Holly, a friend of Selina's past that had returned last year as a completely different person as when they had been met, now married, a mother and a nurse at Gotham Central. "Is she all right?"

"She broke her leg and there's some internal damage but she's going to be all right… She just sounded so worried about being alone and dealing with the car and police…" she looked at me directly in the eye and took my hands into hers, "Bruce, I need to go down there, to be with her, at least until Dave can get there… Can you… handle things this afternoon?"

"This afternoon?" I asked, my voice nearly failing, "As in the party?"

"Yes. I called Tim yesterday and he said he'll be around and I'm sure if you called Cass she can come up to help out…"

I took a deep breath as a flash of the terror from the zoo trip surfaced in my gut, of which I quickly extinguished through logic: that had been at the beginning of the year, the kids had been in school for several months now, surely they were better behaved…

While Selina went to explain to our daughter that she had to leave, I decided to call over to Barbara's in search for backup using the phone in the entertainment den. On the third ring, Cass's voice rushed over the line, "Yeah?"

"Cassandra, it's Bruce. I was wondering if you were planning on coming up to the

Manor this afternoon."

There was a pause and a muffled voice in the background. "I would, but I… have plans. Barbara and I are going to Rockledge."

"Oh… Antiquing?"

"Yes. Some sort of New Year's event."

"Ah…"

My next call was to Tim. I left a message on his cell phone to call me before one and hung up just as Selina walked in and said she was leaving. I stood, hugged her and told her to give Holly my best.

"Are you sure you about this? That you can…"

"It'll be fine," I replied and then lead her out to the garage. I still had an hour and a half, and besides with everything ready for the party and all the activities planned, there wouldn't really be a problem with handling the kids for a few hours.

Piece of cake.

An hour later, "I WANT CAKE!"

Twenty kindergartners gathered in the den that had been so peaceful hours earlier as I had read the Times, running circuits around the furniture, popping balloons that I had delicately filled and collaboratively making enough noise to scare the slumbering bats in the cave below the house. The parents of the little tyrants had promptly dumped them off, ahead of schedule to boot, and the gifts they had brought for the birthday girl, and promises to be back at four to pick them back up.

Not soon enough…

As I stood in the middle of the room trying to put the pieces to Candyland back in the box, the kids had begun to cry out their desire for cake. Although my watch said the children had only been there for less than an hour, it surely felt as if it had been an eternity. Not wanting food all over the carpet or smudgy handprints on the furniture, I corralled the kids into the dining room and made sure each one had a seat at the table.

While trying to figure out how I was going to watch over them while retrieving the food from the kitchen, I heard a low whistle from the hall and then Tim's voice, "Holy candy chaos…"

I resisted the urge to grin at his arrival and simply walked over towards him, "Glad you could make it," I managed over the children, "Did you get my message?"

He nodded as he stared at the kids, "Yeah, I called and when no one answered I came over, figured I'd find you trussed up on the chandelier or something."

"No, that's later. Listen, stay in here for a second while I get the cake… I figured feeding them would sedate them…"

"What kind of cake is it?"

"Ice cream."

Tim interrupted, "Are you nuts? It will add fuel to the fire…"

I spoke low and quiet, "What else am I supposed to do? They wouldn't eat anything off the fruit and vegetable platter… And when I went to find the something else a group of them snuck into the pantry and found cookies. If we don't give them something to eat… I think they'll turn on us."

He shook his head, "Good point. All right, I'll stay in here, but make it fast."

With the plates and utensils already set out in the dining room, I was able to grab a bottle of juice and the platter with the cake in one trip. When I returned, Tim had managed to somewhat capture their attention as he handed out party hats. This of course, was completely lost once they spotted the frozen frosted dessert.

I lit the candles quickly as the children cheered in anticipation. A few of my daughter's "girls" started singing "Happy Birthday" and it wasn't long before each child was singing along as loudly and off key as possible. After taking pictures of the customary blowing out of the candles and wish making, as directed by Selina, I went about slicing as fast as I could without amputating any fingers, leaving Tim to put the pieces on plates and hand them out.

Following the feeding frenzy, Tim and I devised a plan. After a much needed hand and face washing, we were to corral the group to the den and find something on TV for them to watch so that everyone could rest a bit before the remainder of the afternoon.

Well, at least part of the plan worked, and the more important one, in my personal opinion.

We managed to get everyone cleaned up and herded into one room but it soon became apparent that there was no settling down in the near future. Some wanted to watch a movie, others wanted to go outside while the remainder wanted either to have Mattie open her gifts or to play games. And before I could split the group into indoor and outdoor activities, I heard a loud yell and a shrill cry as two boys began pinching one another. Not a moment later, the running had resumed and anarchy had erupted once more.

I looked to Tim and saw him bearing the same frightened expression that was coming over me.

He muttered softly and I asked him to speak up. He turned to face me and spoke, "We can't be scared… Once they smell the fear it's all over."

But there was plenty to be fearful of. Twenty rugrats were terrorizing my home and corrupting my daughter and the odds were certainly in their favor. Maybe Selina was right, I couldn't handle it alone.

This looked like a job for…

V

"Oh, sure thing, let me get him for you," Lois said into the phone.

We had been spending the afternoon at home, remodeling our kitchen with new tiles and cabinets. Our joint New Year's resolution was to re-do every room in the apartment by the end of January and so far we were well on our way. She had picked up in the living room and returned with the portable, "Clark, it's Bruce."

I was under the sink sealing shut a small leak with a touch of heat vision. When I finished, I pushed my glasses up on my nose and rose, "What does he want?"

She shrugged and handed the phone to me, "Didn't say."

I took a breath before answering. Bruce rarely called me, especially during daylight hours. Either it was an emergency or he was being cordial, of which would also be an emergency because some sort of life form would have to take over his body for that to happen, "Hello?"

"Clark," he said quickly, "Thank God you're home."

"Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" he asked. I overheard loud voices in the background, "No, not yet. Listen, I need your help. Now."

"I'll be right there," I replied, ready to hang up, switch into the tights and soar to Gotham.

He cut in before I could do so, "No, wait. I need Clark Kent. Sweater, pressed khakis, the works. And hurry, I don't think there's much time left…"

Confused and frustrated, I asked, "Bruce, what the hell is going on?"

"Just hurry, I'll explain it when you get to the Manor," and then nothing.

As I pressed the off button on the phone, Lois asked, while she filled a glass with water, "Well, what was that about?"

I shook my head, "I'm not sure," and then I looked at her, "Feel like going for a little trip?"

She set the glass down and crossed her arms in front of her, "What about the kitchen?"

"I'll finish it when I get back."

Lois paused and then turned to get her coat and purse, "Fine. But he better not be getting you into any trouble."

"Bruce? Trouble? Never."

The flight to Gotham was chilly, even though I moved above the clouds in hopes to soak up what little warmth the sun offered. Lois shivered and told me to fly faster just to get it over with. Still unsure as to what exactly was going on in Bristol, I chose to drop Lois off at Barbara's apartment for her own safety and then headed up to find my troubled friend.

Ever since Bruce selected to take a reserve status in the JLA, I had not been able to see him as often as I would have liked. As a result, whatever friendship we had rebuilt had lost a bit of its edge and was in desperate need of some sharpening. Hopefully, whatever he had brought me into would not test the bond between us any further.

As I sped closer, I scanned the Manor walls and was puzzled to see several young children chase one another about the den, played with toys and were generally acting like young children. Looking further, I saw the remnants of what appeared to be cake in the dining room and twenty place settings with colorful napkins and dishware. Lastly, as I came upon the Manor grounds, I spotted a half of a dozen snowsuit-garbed tykes burying something in the snow.

Going for concealment, I landed to the side of the house and then approached the kids playing in the snow. As I neared, I recognized Tim's head and arm in the giant pile of snow. I trotted over quickly and asked as nicely as I could why they were burying him.

A short brown-haired boy looked up at me and declared, "We're not supposed to talk to strangers."

I nodded, "Very true, I believe it also wrong to bury people alive."

Tim nodded and raised a hand, "Amen to that."

I helped him out after introducing myself to the kids, thus removing the stranger barrier. Tim seconded my identity and told the kids to get working on the snowman before stepping aside with me, "Tim, what's going on? I get this strange call from Bruce and then I show up to this…"

He nodded once more and then brushed snow out of his hair, "Well, we got a little in over our heads and we decided if anyone could help us, it would be you."

"Help you with what?"

"Mattie's birthday party." When my brows arched, he continued and explained how Selina had been called away because a friend had been hurt and had left Bruce alone with the party duties, since even Alfred would not be around to help. Recalling what Barbara had told me about Bruce's experiences with chaperoning the zoo trip, I quickly realized how big of a situation we were faced with. He then suggested I find Bruce and make sure he was still alive in the house.

The children that had been running around before I had arrived had actually settled down somewhat after being induced into a television coma as a yellow sponge dressed in square pants showed up on the big screen. Bruce was on the larger of the couches and had nearly eleven children sitting next to or on him, including his own daughter.

And then it all went away, the peace, the silence, the captivation with something other than destruction as I spoke up, "Bruce?"

Each head turned in my direction suddenly and there were a few whispers before Mattie hopped off of Bruce's lap, "Uncle Clark!" As she ran over to hug me, her friends also rose and somewhat followed her over. She quickly introduced me, "This is my Uncle Clark, he lives in Metropolis and he makes newspapers bout Superman."

I offered an apologetic look to Bruce who merely scowled back.

After every child said their name, the questions started in about Metropolis' guardian and I did my best to answer each one to the best of my ability. But it didn't take long for them to start yelling out their questions and fighting over who asked what first. A childhood memory sparked in the back of my mind, of my mother telling me a story about greed and how it could affect everyone. How if you gave a mouse a cookie, he would want a glass of milk…

Before I knew it, my hands had been taken by two girls who were telling me, not asking, that I was going to play Hide and Seek with them as a pair of red headed twins circled around the back of me, no doubt planning some prank.

While the girls explained their rules of the timeless game, I looked over to see that four children complaining they were still hungry had cornered Bruce. I watched on as he directed them to a full platter of healthy snacks and the subsequent put down as they whined about more cake. I over heard a promise of cup cakes if they would sit still on the couch long enough for him to get them.

While he was gone, the phone rang and the kids in the room all cried out at once, "TELEPHONE!"

What were they teaching kindergartners these days? I managed to find a phone near the doorway, underneath a discarded party hat and answered wearily, "Hello?"

"Clark?" Selina replied, no doubt completely caught off guard, "Don't tell me, Bruce called in the League."

"No, just me," I said. She asked if Bruce was there and I told her he had gone in search of refreshments. I wanted to ask when she planned on coming back but felt it wasn't my place.

Luckily, she brought up the topic on her own, "Okay, well can you tell Bruce I'll be home around four."

A glance at my watch said that meant only thirty minutes left of the madness. Even still, it seemed like forever, especially since I knew there weren't enough cup cakes in the world to satisfy the party-goers.

"I will tell him."

She paused before asking how everything was going. Not one to lie, especially to someone like Selina, I took a deep breath and said, "Well, it's almost done. How's that?"

Selina laughed quietly, "As long as there's no grape juice on my rug and Bruce doesn't stroke out, it's more than okay. See you in a bit."

After I hung up, I saw that Tim had entered the room with his group of snow bound youngsters. I updated him on the good news that Selina will be on her way home shortly and a smile broke out onto his face, "There is a light at the end of the tunnel," he paused slightly and asked, "What's that, in your sweater?"

I slowly reached back, cautious as to what the little heathens had done. My fingers touched a long strand of fabric attached to a crumpled piece of metal. When I retrieved it, careful not to tear the sweater, I brought it in front of me, and Tim and I stared in disbelief. It was the tail for Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Those little twins…

"You know, when I was a kid, we never had parties nearly as bad as these," I commented.

Tim looked over at me, "What kind of a party could it have been? Aside from the cow tipping and the out house moving?"

I often had faced ridicule for my simple up bringing. And every time I did, I defended it, "We had indoor plumbing first of all. And there was more than cow tipping." I thought to myself, A real wild night would be taking a tractor out for a spin.

V

Exhausted, more emotionally than physically, I walked through the service entrance with a bag of Chinese food and called out Bruce's name. After setting the food on the counter, I called out his name again and frowned when he didn't reply. The house was too quiet.

After spending the day at the hospital with Holly, it felt good to get home. She was being held over night for observation and when I had left, her husband had taken up the bedside seat that I had occupied. With several interruptions from nurses and doctor check ins, we had spent the hours chatting about anything and everything, avoiding the topic of the car accident completely. And as guilty as I felt for leaving Bruce to handle the party, at the same time I had been glad to relieve myself of the task.

I found them in the kitchen nook, slouching in chairs and staring off into the abyss. I said Bruce's name again and he finally looked over at me. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, "Save me any cake?"

He mumbled, "Lucky to save the house."

I told him dinner was in the kitchen if he was up to it and he barely nodded in response. With a slight smirk, I glanced over at Clark and was amazed at how one afternoon had seemed to destroy him. His pristine button down shirt was missing two buttons and had come untucked from his wrinkled khakis. There were several stains on his sweater, of which I deduced to be frosting. Even his glasses were crooked.

I bet he was begging for some K to numb the pain.

With no sign of Tim, I figured he had headed home, and went in search of my daughter. No doubt she was alone in the midst of dozens of presents. I found her in the den, sleeping on the couch with a new stuffed animal. I sat down next to her and kissed the top of her head. Mattie sat up slowly and moved herself onto my lap. I asked her how the party was and she said, "Great."

"Did everyone have fun?"

She nodded slowly and looked up at me, "How's your friend?"

"Good," I paused and surveyed the room, surprised that it wasn't completely destroyed. I would do my best to clean it up by the time Alfred got home, but then again there was no way I could do it completely to his standards. "Why don't you go wash up, I brought some Chinese food and some fortune cookies for dinner."

"Kay," she said quietly before sliding off the couch, stuffed animal in tow.

I picked up a few things in the den, straightened the furniture and shut the TV off before checking in on the dining room. Not as bad as I had expected. By the time I had cleared all of the dishes and wiped off the table, Mattie had returned and helped me carry dishes into the kitchen. Bruce and Clark were still catatonic in the nook and Mattie looked at them with a tilted head and whispered, "Are they okay?"

"They will be."

We ate in the den and she told me every detail she could muster out of her memory about the party and how much fun it was. I apologized for not being able to stay but she shrugged and looked up at me before taking a bite of an egg roll, "That's okay. Dad did a good job."

"Did he?"

She nodded and swallowed before saying, "Much better than the zoo."

"That's good."

After taking care of dinner, Mattie was practically falling asleep as she sat on the couch. I carried her upstairs and tucked her into bed before checking in on the other children. Just as I entered the nook again, the phone rang and I managed to grab it before it rang a second time, "Hello."

"Hi, Selina?"

"Yes."

"It's Lois. I was wondering if Clark was still there?"

"His body is, but I think mentally he is long gone," I smiled as I retrieved a pen and piece of notepaper. I thought it had been interesting that Bruce had called in on Clark to help, considering how distant they had become over the years. Then again, I guess a friendship like the one they shared improved in dire situations. "Want me to send him your way?"

"Um, give him a while. I don't want him flying us into a tree on our way home. If he's not functional enough to take us home in an hour, tell Bruce I'm stealing the jet."

"Will do." I finished writing my note before putting the phone on the receiver. I relayed Lois' message to her husband and then to Bruce before setting the paper on the table between them. There were slight nods from both before they returned to their motionless state. If they had read the note, I 'm sure I would have never heard the end of it, especially from Bruce: "Do Not Disturb: Superheroes at Rest."

If, that is, they could have focused long enough to read it.

V

"I really appreciate you doing this."

I shrugged and pulled onto the private road that lead to Wayne Manor, "No problem."

Since I had planned on heading up to the Manor anyway, Barbara had volunteered e to drive Lois up in order to retrieve Clark so they could head back to Metropolis. We were quiet for the remainder of the drive and even as I parked out front near the garage. I lead her into the house through the side entrance, through the kitchen and towards the hall.

That's when we saw him. Lois laughed quietly and said, "Poor boy… What a tough day."

As she went to rouse Clark, I spotted a note on the table and scanned it quickly before smiling to myself. I must have missed out on one heck of a party. After saying good night to Lois, I made my way into the hall and headed towards the rear of the house and towards the entrance.

Just before I entered the study, I noticed the door to the poolroom was slightly ajar. Interesting. I took a few steps and peered inside. At first there didn't seem to be anyone there, but then I saw a form floating in the pool, motionlessly. Another couple of steps brought me into the room and a few more to the edge of the pool.

It was Tim, eyes closed, body completely still and relaxed. At first I thought perhaps he was just relaxing after some exercise routines, but then I remembered he had said something about coming up to check out the party. From the looks of it, Bruce must have conned him into staying. Poor guy indeed.

Too bad I decided to interrupt his sensory deprivation.

There was a small metal crate of pool toys tucked between two potted pal trees and I selected a bright yellow volleyball and threw it at him, smiling when it landed dead on his belly button. He gasped, went under the water for a moment before surfacing, "What the hell… Cass?"

I nodded, "I see you survived."

He swam over and put his arms on the edge, pulling himself out of the pool slightly, "Barely. Why didn't you come up?"

I shrugged, "Barbara wanted someone one go with her to Rockledge."

"Ah. How did that go?"

I paused and then sat down on the floor cross-legged, "It was all right. Lois came with us so mainly it was them talking and me pretending to listen."

I watched as he nodded before pushing off of the ledge slightly, "I would have taken a day of girl chat over a birthday party though. I don't how Mattie is still so sweet an innocent when she spends her days with those monsters."

"It couldn't have been that bad," I commented, thinking on how they had probably been a little obnoxious but kids were kids.

Tim smirked, "Oh it was bad. If Clark hadn't shown up when he had, I would have been buried alive under the snow in the back yard. And then Bruce would have been defenseless… Who knows that they would have done to him… I tell you Cass, it was the day room at Arkham, only no straight coats or scary orderlies."

Okay, so it was that bad.

"Well," I smiled, "As least you didn't have to listen to people complain about their significant others and trade gossip from their respective cities."

His brows rose slightly, "Gossip? Do tell."

I shook my head, "Sorry, girl chat stays between girls."

"Typical." He splashed a small wave of water at me and I glared at him until he shrugged a shoulder, "What time is it?"

A glance at y watch later, "Quarter of six."

Tim nodded before asking, "Were Bruce and Clark still passed out in the nook?"

I shook my head, "Clark was, not Bruce."

He bit his slip in thought, "Probably went downstairs to add each of the kids into a databank of future criminals to be on the look out for. Which reminds me… I'll have to show you the file I found the other night."

"On who?"

He swam back to the edge and put on hand on the tiled floor, "I was just doing some routine maintenance, compounding files, deleting duplicates and whatnot. And under new files, there was a name I had ever seen before: SCLDEC24."

"Who was it on?"

"Santa. Not the perp he caught at the mall though, this one was for the 'real' one."

"Interesting," I commented.

His brows arched, "Interesting? It's down right hilarious. It's like the first time Batman's cracked a joke in years. Practically monumental."

"Right, hilarious."

Just as I was about to stand up, I felt two hands grip my ankles and jerk quickly. The next sensation I had was that I was suddenly in the cool water of the pool. Before I could lash out at Tim, he had swum backwards and well out of my reach. I pushed wet hair back off of my face and threw him an icy glare.

"How about that, was that funny enough for you?"

"Do I look amused?" I growled.

He approached me, still keeping a three-foot distance, "Um, well, I've never seen you amused before… And I've never seen your face like this before… so yes?"

I splashed water quietly and moved towards him, smiling to see him retreat, "Try again."

When his back connected with the wall of the pool, he looked over his shoulder quickly before locking eyes with mine. His face was a mixture of anticipation and fear. Very few people trifled with me for one particular reason. I didn't get angry, I simply saw that whoever had fouled against me received their well deserved payback.

It took five minutes of trying to drown one another before I accomplished my task. I then pushed myself up on the ledge and climbed out of the pool. While ignoring Tim's calls for a truce, I picked up the towel he had set out earlier and walked out of the room. As I passed through the door, he pleaded, "Come on, I'm sorry… Cass, how a I supposed to get out?"

I shrugged and walked into the hall. Before heading to the cave's entrance, I made a quick stop to the laundry room, Tim's voice muffled but still discernable. He was a smart boy, I thought as I dumped his trunks and towel into a hamper, I'm sure he will figure a way out.

V

When I had come in, three hours early for my first shift of the year, the first detective to acknowledge my return had been Dan Harden. He had let out a low whistle before saying, "Damn, boy. Hardly recognize you when you shave off all that stubble."

Translated, it meant that he was glad to see I had made good use of my time off by finally taking care of myself.

After a week off, forced by Lieutenant Tudeski, I was finally back where I was needed. For seven days, I slept, ate and acted like a normal human being. With exception of Christmas Eve, I spent my nights at the Clocktower with Barbara and for the last two evenings I had been back in my apartment, preparing myself for the inevitable. During the break, I had time to take a step back, look at the whole picture of the case.

While my family opened gifts, I thought back on how we had been given wrong information from the school cafeteria workers, which had in turn altered the possible time of death by nearly twelve hours since her stomach contents were different that the day's lunch of Sloppy Joe's. As my family enjoyed warm cider and egg nog by the fire after dinner, I couldn't help but juggle the various theories that myself and the other detectives had formed in order to figure this conundrum out.

Camden, who had gone to the original scene with me, had decided that Alicia had been killed the first night, with the cool, damp weather morbidly preserving the child's body until it had been dumped in the alley. In opposition, Detective Garvey-Reeds, who had not been directly involved in the earlier stage of the investigation felt that the killer had kept her alive long enough for that second meal and for other reasons. This left her murder to take place on the second day she had been missing, that way her killer did not have to worry about hiding her and could easily dump the body once he was finished with it…

Our first shadow of a suspect had been an odd little man who holed up in the apartment building next to that of the Wallach family. Neighbors constantly complained about his drunkenness and the hours he kept, in addition to his company. With nothing to go on, we had been unable to obtain a warrant to search his home, but we had another plan. Eight detectives went to the old smokehound's home one evening and pulled him down for questioning. He had been sitting in his under shorts on a sofa, guzzling rum and choking back chips, so we gave him ten minutes to gather his belongings and to get ready. In that time, the detectives performed a plain sight search, looking for anything that could have indicated his involvement.

I had been one of the eight but once I had seen the man up close, I knew it wasn't him. This had been done be a controlled man, a serious man. Not some old drunk who fell down twice while trying to put his pants on.

According to my watch, it was quarter after eight in the morning on the twenty-third of January. Four months and six days after I had taken on the task of reining in Alicia Wallach's killer.

And although I couldn't prove it, I was sitting directly across from him.

The manager of the Fish Market, one Andrew Corbin, had been given the nickname of "Fish Man" not only from his occupation and curious stench, but from his unique ability to evade any of the lures we had laid out for him. He knew the girl. He had a taste for pre-pubescent females. He smirked after every one of our interviews ended inconclusively.

What limited and misleading evidence we had hardly suggested his involvement, but it was my hunch that had nailed it home. I had been trained my whole life to keep my eyes open and to be open to multiple possibilities. But that had been as Robin the Boy Hostage. Even still, my mind was pointed in one direction and I couldn't turn away.

There had been a total of three interviews, one taken at the Fish Man's residence in light of a search warrant proven futile, and the other two in the same paint chipped interrogation room that we were in. The same table, same chairs, same stinky tobacco mixed with fish smell. It seemed that the man was even wearing the same dreary outfit and had the same amount of stubble.

I, on the other hand, had changed significantly. As always, I had a yearly physical on the second of January, not for the BPD, but for my other line of work. According to a very solemn Leslie Thompkins, I had lost fourteen pounds and had taken an increase in my blood pressure. Migraines were a weekly occurrence, as was the recurring cold I had been fighting since late November. She had told me that there was no amount of antibiotics in the world to do anything about as long as I was on my feet all day and night.

It seemed like it had been years since this endless dance had begun. Back and forth, side to side. Day and night. Night and day. And as I had wasted away, sacrificing everything to bring him to justice for his crime, he hadn't changed a damned bit, same smug grin, same stench, same everything.

This time would be different. It had to be. For me. For Alicia.

This time, they had brought in the big guns. Raymond Frost, an interrogational specialist from the FBI, had been successful in bringing the highest powers of government to their knees in an interrogation room. At first, I had been skeptical when Hardy had suggested that we involve an outsider in the last ditch effort of the final interrogation. Then, after reviewing Frost on the network Oracle worked on, I realized it may work, not only from the aspect that the guy was good at his job, but he wasn't tainted by the case to same degree that everyone else was in the Bludhaven Police Department.

"You know why you're here," Frost stated quietly, his eyes as cold as his name. The Fish Man sat motionlessly, eyeing a spot on the scarred table.

Frost repeated himself and then said sternly, "Listen to me."

Finally, a sign of life from the suspect as he looked up and nodded.

I sat beside Frost, doing my best not to exhibit the tension that coursed my body. My eyes had locked themselves on the Fish Man's face, searching for the sign of guilt that I knew was just below the surface. He looked back at me and then at Frost, his expression shifting to anticipation.

"You know why you are here?"

He replied finally as he looked at me, "He brought me down here."

"And why did Detective Grayson bring you down here?"

"That girl."

I wanted to stand and reach across the crappy table and grab the man by his stained shirt collar. That girl? That girl that he raped and murdered brutally, who he has shown no remorse for? How could he say "That girl", was he that inhuman as to refer to an innocent child in such a demeaning manner?

Frost spoke up, interrupting my rapid thoughts, "That girl. Say her name."

The Fish Man looked back down to the table and mumbled something to himself. Frost asked him to say her name again, his voice still smooth and icy. After a deep breath he replied, "Alicia."

Only minutes into it and I knew we had him. The look on his face as he struggled to say her name meant more than anything I had seen. As I looked closer, there was a slight slumping to the suspect's shoulders that hadn't been there a moment earlier. Signalment of defeat at last? Or was it too early in the morning for the Fish Man, who had yet to touch his stale, homicide room coffee?

There was a silence in the room before Frost spoke up, "I'm here for a reason as well. Because I know your kind. I know all about you and your kind." The Fish Man shrugged and then chanced a look up at the interrogator. I looked for a sign of fear and only saw a slight curiosity as Frost continued, "And you know nothing about me and my kind. You've never met my kind before. You've talked to cops before but you've never talked with someone like me. Do you understand, I'm a whole new brand."

Although the specialist was one of our key tools in the final showdown against Corbin, he was not alone. Over the last few months, we had made diagrams and charts and outlines of events in order to categorize and dehumanize the death of Alicia Wallach. The printouts were in a thick folder on the table in front of me, ammunition to finish the Fish Man off.

Frost nodded at me and took the folder, skimming signed statements and interview transcripts, "You've been here before, you've lied here before. We know that and we know you won't be doing it again."

"I don't know anything---," the Fish Man stated confidently.

Frost paused, leaned towards the suspect and said pointedly, "Yes. Yes you do."

Although we had done so in the previous interrogations, we explained each and every document that suggested his involvement, and even those that had nothing to do with him. The time of death. The way she was laying on the cold, wet pavement. What her last meal had been. The paint chips on her sneakers. Everything down the minutest details.

And the whole time he sat there and took it, just as he had before.

As we neared five hours, I began to wonder if this had been a mistake. If we had blown our last chance by repeating our mistakes but with a new interrogator. Then we found a hole. Frost had asked when he had last seen the girl before she had died and the Fish Man replied, "Sunday."

"Sunday?" I asked quietly to myself.

I flipped through the file and showed a previously recorded statement from the suspect and gave it to Frost. He nodded, his stone face unwavering, "Interesting. Sunday before she disappeared. Seems that when you were asked about this earlier you said it had been over a week and a half since you had seen Alicia. Now you say you say her on Sunday."

The Fish Man mumbled, "Week and a half?"

Frost nodded, "That's what you told us. That's what we wrote down. Are you saying you didn't see her a week and a half prior to Alicia's murder?" emphasizing the last word and looking for any reaction.

The only one we received was a quick shrug and a mutter, "Don't remember. Was a long time ago."

Same story every time, something didn't fit and still we hadn't nailed this son of a bitch. I stood finally, unable to bottle it any longer. I retrieved a three by five photograph of a child that resembled Alicia, but had lost her life in the late seventies. I had copied it from an ancient file that had also gone unsolved. That had also had Corbin's name listed as a suspect.

"Do you know who this is? Do you know this girl?"

His eyes flashed from the picture to my face and then down at his hands that rested on the table. I felt the euphoria rise within me as his guilt multiplied as he spoke, "Yes."

"How do you know her?"

The Fish Man studied the calloused on his palms and then he looked up at me. The defeat I had predicted to be swimming in his plain, hazel eyes had been replaced with a cold, threatening glare. Challenging me to bring him down.

He looked closer at the picture, "Wait, that ain't Alicia. Close though, don't know this one. I ain't got my new glasses yet, lil fuzzy."

Before I relented to my previous urge to grab this man's throat, Foster interrupted by leaning over and obtaining the Fish Man's attention with a low, growl, "Listen to me. I know your lies, I know your stories, I know everything about you. I know you like little girls because women wouldn't even shit in your mouth let alone touch you. But there's a problem with girls, isn't there? They cry out in pain. You have to tell them to be quiet and then threaten them. What do you tell them? Something catchy, something that rhymes so they can chant in their heads when you're ripping them apart?"

Frost drew a breath and spoke so quietly that I barely picked it up, "If you cry, you die." He then pointed at a school picture of Alicia, "She cried," and then he pointed at the small photo on my hand, "Just like she did."

There was a long, silent moment before Andrew Corbin, the owner of the Fish Market, rapist, murderer, evil incarnate spoke evenly, "I wouldn't know. I would never hurt Alicia. Never hurt any kid."

The rest was a blur. Foster tried to get back to where the Fish Man was weary and uncertain, where he was on the verge of confession, but it was no use. They had lost it, their last chance to put a killer in prison. The circumstantial evidence, their over-anticipated interrogator savior and months of endless nights and sleepless days had all been for that very moment.

Had all been for nothing.

I watched as the interrogation dwindled to the end, with no more signs of discomfort on the suspect's side of the table. In fact, I couldn't recall what was even said after I saw Corbin's look of victory. When all was said and done, the magic bullet had failed to surface. Alicia Wallach was still dead, I was still a homicide detective, Corbin was still a smelly fish man who liked to feel up twelve-year olds.

As an officer escorted Corbin out into the hall and towards the elevator, I followed him for a few steps before freezing in my tracks. Although the floor was busy as detectives were clocking out as the next shift checked in, while the phones rang on and off and the exchanging of bad jokes and banter was in full force, I could only hear one sound.

A pair of worn soles walked down the hall to freedom.

V

And now the fun begins…


	11. One And Only: XI

Title: One And Only: XI

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language, violence

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

V

The following chapter is dedicated to and inspired by the LAPD officers who, against all odds, defended North Hollywood in the bank robbery shootout on February 28, 1997.

In the end, only eleven officers and five civilians were injured while both suspects were killed amidst over a thousand rounds of ammunition expelled between both officers and suspects.

Some of the events and dialogue are actual discourse from officer witness accounts and dispatch recordings taken through the duration of the shootout.

V

"Damnit."

I looked at the spread of papers on my desk, covered in freshly spilt coffee and growled. After a long week, this was only one of many incidents that had brought foul language to my lips. Icing on the cake, I suppose. There was a sudden rap on the closed door of my office and I huffed, "It's open," as I mopped up the coffee with the three napkins I had left from my six-thirty breakfast.

Soft footsteps walked through the door and I recognized them to belong to Harper Reynolds, a Detective Sergeant in Robbery-Homicide. She'd been a transfer from Chicago, much like myself, and we had shared countless cups of coffee and comparisons between our two cities. One look at my dilemma and she smirked, "I thought things like this happened on Mondays, Commissioner?"

I sighed and threw the sodden lumps of napkins into the overflowing trashcan, "Well, for me, Fridays can be just as ugly." As I went about shaking off any remaining droplets of liquid, I offered her to take a seat.

"Uh, no thanks, I just wanted to check in on that task force for the Menendez gang. One of my D.B.'s from last week ended up being a vic of theirs."

I looked up at her, "And you want in on the fun of bringing them in?"

"Sir, it would be an honor," she winked.

There were fifteen officers and four detectives involved, not to mention members of SWAT, in the planned assault of a small gang in the lower Bowery who had a habit of taking out their competitors in order to boost the success of their own pharmaceutical career. A four-month project of the GCPD covering the importing and distributing of Ecstasy throughout the city had boiled down to a bust scheduled for that Sunday evening.

"I… I would check in with Detective Dave Mills, see if they could use an extra hand," I paused as an officer knocked on the open door's frame, "What?"

He stammered, "Uh, sir, I don't mean to interrupt but there's something going on in Bludhaven you might want to check out… It's on every station…"

Before the poor kid stroked out from trying to explain himself, I sighed and stepped out and down the hall to see what the commotion was all about. It was ridiculous that the news stations were the first to know about anything these days. It used to be the radio would squawk and we would know but hell, Dispatch couldn't even keep on top of things anymore.

I looked up, just as everyone else in the room was, to see footage from a helicopter of what appeared to be a bank and it's parking lot. There were at least fifteen units parked strategically, barricading the gun-drawn officers from whatever was inside the bank. The audio finally picked up and I barked for everyone in the room to be quiet.

"We are here live above the Bank of America in downtown Bludhaven where as you can see there are over two dozen officers present in response to an armed bank robbery in progress. There are at least two suspects that have been accounted for with an unknown number of hostages inside. Shots have been fired inside the bank, but there is no way of knowing what is…"

I heard someone utter, "And people complain about Gotham being violent."

The reporter's voice continued over the whir of chopper blades and the room went quiet, "We do have… yes, we know have a recording of the original call into Dispatch from the officers responding to the scene first… Just a moment…."

There was a loud click and then static before a male voice came over the television, "…Requesting assistance. We have a possible 211 in progress at the Bank of America on Cape north of Kittridge. We have shots fired. All units, officer needs help at the Bank of America, Cape north of Kittridge…"

"This is Dispatch, acknowledge 211 in progress, requesting all available units to the Bank of America…"

The footage shifted and began closing in on the various clusters of officers as they aimed their weapons at the doors of the bank, waiting in that calm before the storm that so many of us knew all to well. I frowned to see most of the forms were young, probably on the beat less than a year and already an armed bank robbery was a walk in the park. I thought to myself that it should never get to that point.

The officer's voice returned, clearer this time and somewhat familiar beyond the generalized radio cop voice, "Shots fired inside, we have shots fired inside!"

The camera zoomed in unbelievably close on an unmarked vehicle that was settled between a phone booth and a black and white. Two men, in suits, had their weapons drawn, one was talking into a hand held radio. Detectives already at a robbery in progress?

As the camera pulled back, it was obvious that a number of new units had arrived, but SWAT was nowhere in sight and the reporter commented on it, "We now can see at least twenty police vehicles present, nearly thirty officers at the scene… No SWAT responding units have arrived but they have been called on and are en route. Those of you just joining us, we have a bank robbery in progress at the Bank of America on Cape and north of Kittridge and it is advised that you steer clear of the area as officers are handling the situation. Roadblocks will be up shortly and all southbound traffic will be redirected…"

Another voice surfaced, the news anchor safely tucked away in the news studio, "Clare, this is quite a way to start the day and to end the week."

The news chopper voice returned, "That it is Tom."

I was about to return to my office, disgusted with how dark the Haven was when the reporter then continued, "Wait, the suspects have exited the bank, there appear to be two masked men, armed with what looks like machine guns… This could be a greater situation than we would have anticipated…"

When I looked back, the camera moved from the heavily armed suspects over towards the detectives in the front line of responding units, moving in closer than before. The taller of the two was snapping into his radio as the reporter said, "It appears that this new development…" I stopped listening at that point as two things happened at once.

I recognized the detective and the voice on the radio as Dick Grayson.

And the two machine gun toting suspects opened fire on the officers.

V

As I sat crouched behind the unmarked, bullets whipping by, I cursed myself for not talking to Barbara when she had called that morning. Mostly because I was sure I was never going to talk to her again. Or to anyone else for that matter.

It had been over a month since I had watched Alicia Wallach's killer go free, although it had felt like at least a decade. I took on the responsibility of organizing all of the evidence and paperwork in order to put the case into Cold Storage, a section in the homicide room where the rare, unsolvable cases lived until they were thawed out and attempted once more.

In addition, I had put down another senseless homicide, a final climax to a long-running domestic feud, and had teamed up with another detective on a still open taxicab killing. Fairly quiet for the most part, so I had occupied myself with trying to get back into shape both physically and emotionally. I had fooled myself into thinking it would be easy to get over the case, but it was with me, every second of every day. Therefore I had gone in search of distractions, thus leading to my lucky day.

After morning briefing, I had asked if Trey wanted to ride along as I revisited the crime scene of the case I was currently working on and he had said, "Sure, let me grab my coat."

For late February, it was pretty typical with bitter cold and icy winds coming in from the coast. Barbara had gotten me a new full-length coat with heavier insulation for Christmas and I couldn't have been happier, especially since the heat in the Cavaliers took about a half hour to kick on.

"Got the weekend off?" Trey had asked after ten minutes of silence in the car.

I had nodded and when I didn't elaborate he asked if I had any plans. I was about to say that I hadn't as we turned onto Cape Avenue and passed the Bank of America. The first signal was a white sedan that was parked crookedly in an area next to the building that was reserved for managers and operations officers of the bank. This vehicle was a model ten years old and had at least a hundred thousand miles too many on it's old frame, an eye sore amidst the Beemers.

"Shit," I whispered as I spotted two tall men, garbed in black head to toe, slip into the bank's front doors. Without warning Trey, I slammed on the brakes and pulled a quick one-eighty before calling in the 211 to dispatch. As I was barking into the radio, Trey asked me what the hell I was doing. When I pointed to the bank, he was able to see the second man shut the bank doors and lock them.

Shortly after we had pulled up and taken cover behind the unmarked, shots had been fired inside, probably scare tactics to frighten the tellers and patrons of the bank. I had been trained for hostage situations, not only in the academy, but back in my pixie boot days as well. Generally, once the suspects were surrounded and they finally realize there was truly no way out, they were usually no more than a brief chat with an negotiator away from surrendering.

After I had called it in, I mentally reviewed the steps in my head, not only to keep focused, but to occupy the time until the backup arrived. First step, deploy units: already done. Step two, secure and surround the perimeter of the key location. Well, Trey and I had the front door… Third, wait for SWAT to show up and then step back so the big guns could handle things in case it did get rough.

A bullet clipped the rear view mirror two inches above my head.

This sucked.

I peered over the hood and saw the gunmen were standing a few yards apart, letting loose round after round into the police cars, doing their best to reach the officers who were taking cover. As the most senior officer on the scene, I had taken responsibility for each and every life in uniform, of which in itself was a nightmare. I was twenty-seven, not some forty-five year old salt and pepper cop who'd worked the beat his whole life.

Not that it mattered, I suppose.

When the gunmen had exited the bank, before opening fire, I had noticed instantly that the reason they had looked so big upon entering was because they were wearing body armor, heavy Kevlar. Thanks to a donation from the Wayne Foundation shortly after Bruce was cleared of being charged with murdering Vesper Fairchild, each officer had a Kevlar vest. Whether or not they wore it all the time was their prerogative. I had to admit, since my focus was on dead people, I rarely wore mine to work and I sure as hell hadn't that day.

Another key point I picked up on about the gunmen was the fact that instead of holding up the bank with some stolen or illegally gained hand gun, they had brought AK-47s with hundred round clips and plenty of extra ammunition. The bullets tore through the vehicles like a knife through butter, suggesting they're armor piercing capabilities.

I had a standard issue 92F 9mm Beretta with a fifteen round clip and only four back up clips.

The very second they had exited the bank and braced their stances before aiming their weapons out at us; time had slowed to a crawl. I had glanced at Trey, seeing his face grow fearful at the sight of the AK's. I had looked at my watch and saw that it was 9:38 in the morning on Friday, February 28. I had thought about how I had only drawn my gun six times in my entire career as an officer and had yet to fire it.

I thought of Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Selina and Mattie and Tim and Jim and Cass and of everyone that meant anything to me.

Then I had said, "Wait a second… they're gonna… oh shit, EVERYBODY DOWN!"

After the very first bullet was fired, the officers paused before opening return fire. I had my weapon drawn but had no intentions of firing until I could assess the covering of their body armor and how determined they were to fight they're way out.

As I demanded to the poor dispatcher on the other end of the line for SWAT to get there and to get there now, I thought back to that morning's briefing. There had been a Robbery BOLO alert, Be On The Lookout, for a pair of bank robbers that had been working their way down the coast. I hadn't really paid attention, specifically because it was directed to Robbery. Their MO had been to hit banks hard in the mornings and come out even harder, using firepower to get their way to freedom. I think the Captain had mentioned that they had shot at least twenty cops and killed two.

Cop killers in Bludhaven. Shooting at me.

When I looked over the hood again, I watched as Trey fired four rounds in a row, each connecting with the taller of the two gunmen square in the chest. We watched in horror as he didn't even flinch but instead shifted and opened fired directly at us.

"What the hell is going on, Dick?" he said as he loaded a fresh clip.

I explained to him that I thought these were the BOLO bank robbers and he went white. I thought it had been from how grave I had suddenly made the situation, but unfortunately it wasn't. I turned in the same direction he was looking and spotted a pair officers, that had been taking cover behind the car, sprawled on the ground. They had taken the fire intended for us…

I recognized one of them and called out, "Carson!"

He looked over and waved at me before slowly sitting up and moving over to his partner. I traded places with Trey and inched closer to him, "Where are you hit?"

He pointed to his arm, "Clipped me, burns like a motha… Tyne got it in the side…"

I glanced over at his still horizontal partner and told him to put pressure in the wound and to keep him talking as I quickly scooted back to the cover of the unmarked. After drawing a deep breath, I picked up the radio and made the call I had dreaded, "Officers down, we have officers down, we need medical here now!"

"Dispatch 12, copy request for Medical. Units are en route."

"They need to be here now! Where the hell is SWAT, we're taking heavy fire, suspects are wearing full body armor, armed with AK-47's…"

"Copy that. SWAT is en route, undetermined ETA, morning traffic has Ashton backed up."

"Over…" I growled. The gunfire seemed to lessen somewhat suddenly and I looked over the hood once more to see that one of the suspects was reloading his machine gun, leaving only one versus the rest of us. I spotted one of the patrol cars over on the other side of the parking lot where an officer was aiming a shotgun at the suspect loading his gun. After some riots a few years back, we were able to carry shotguns in units that worked in areas of the city with high levels of violence. That had translated into six shotguns to be shared amongst almost a hundred units.

Three cheers for city budgeting.

The shotgun was explosive as it fired and the round connected soundly into the suspect's chest. He took two steps back, regained his balance and then aimed his gun at that officer and opened fire. His rounds also connected squarely with its target, although when the officer stepped backwards, he fell and didn't get back up.

"Sonofabitch…" Trey muttered.

The constant rapport of gunfire had deadened my hearing and I looked over at him and asked, "What?"

He shook his head, "They've got us."

"No, not yet," I replied.

Within minutes both of the gunmen returned back inside the bank and the air fell quiet. They needed a break, perhaps, but we needed to regroup until SWAT decided to show up. Just as I was about to decide how to move the wounded officers out of the immediate area, I heard someone call out my name.

Sergeant Tom Miller trotted up to me and knelt behind the car. There was a small scratch on his cheek and a scrape on his chin. He caught me looking and said, "I dove for cover when you bellowed, kissed the asphalt… Listen, I got a kid over on the other side that needs to get out of here, he's by himself taking cover behind a light pole, tried to help move a wounded civilian, but he took a bullet in the leg and he's bleeding something awful."

"EMS is on their way, but I'm not sure how close they'll be able to get…"

A quiet voice came over the radio suddenly, "9L89... need help."

Miller's face dropped, "That's Whitfield, my officer… "

Someone at dispatch replied, "9L89 stand by... Get vehicles out of the way north of Kittridge…"

And then a gruff, "SWAT unit command…"

I barked, "SWAT unit, we have an officer down Victory west of Cape Avenue. He needs help code three. He's passing out... this officer needs help immediately."

"Who do we have to bring in? We don't have enough officers to handle this…" another officer's voice came over the radio, paused and then continued in a rushed voice, "We have civilian traffic crossing into this kill zone! We need someone up here to keep the barricade enforced!"

Dispatch spoke once more, "Any unit available to respond to 9L89, he's losing consciousness. Officer has been hit….

Whitfield's voice rasped, "ETA... on help...? 9...L...89... L...89."

Miller took out his own radio out, "Mark, hang in there."

Dispatch responded,"9L89, somebody is en route code three..."

"I... don't see... help...

For the first time since I had called in to Dispatch, not only was the radio silent, but the entire area was.

And then they came out of the bank, armed with not only their guns but their bags of money. In that very second, each officer went back on full alert, sights centered on their targets. Waiting for them to make the first move. And they did. One opened fire on the officers while the other walked around the back of the crookedly parked white car and opened the trunk, and pulled out a new AK and put the one he had been using in the trunk. Probably had over heated. I then watched as he moved to the driver's side and stepped in behind the wheel.

I spoke into the radio, "Suspects are attempting to flee…"

"They're going north. They're going through the front out north," an officer added.

Dispatch asked for all units on Laurel supervising the barricade and told them, "Suspects are on the north side... They've got AK-47s. Two of them. They're dressed in all black. Heavy body armor."

A bullet soared through the unmarked and clipped my shoulder. I swore before grabbing at the flesh wound and looked over as the suspect's car began to slowly roll out into the street with the one driving and the other tagging after, providing the defense.

"All officers stay down," I said, "One suspect is still firing at officers in the front of the bank. One suspect has entered a white vehicle on the west side. Shots are still being fired to the front of the bank."

"Stop that vehicle north of Kittridge!" someone replied.

"Do not stop that vehicle. They've got automatic weapons. There's nothing we have that can stop them," I snapped back.

"This is Tanner at Command, if somebody has a shot, take it."

The vehicle passed through the first intersection, I watched as shots landed into the armor of the suspects from a distance, not even deadening their pace. It became all too clear that the danger was no longer at the bank itself, but on the streets of Bludhaven. I stood and started to run, bent at the waist to take cover from any spare shots in our direction.

I wasn't a car length away when I heard Trey, "What the hell are you doing?"

I turned slightly, "SWAT isn't going to get here in time, we need to take these guys out now that they're mobile."

"I'm going with you."

As much as I wanted to say no, I couldn't. Instead, I told him to walk up the west side of the street and to keep working on the gunman that was in the car. Where Trey Richardson lacked in fundamental and practical forensic skills, his marksmanship was uncanny.

As we went our separate ways, I took a narrow alleyway and ended up on the eastern side of the bank. I moved as quickly as possible through several vacant lots, leapt domestic fenced in yards and bounded in the direction the suspects were headed. I should have been tired or scared or something other than energized and audacious.

As much as I was in the guise of Detective Dick Grayson, the strangely familiar and out of place feelings belonged to none other than Nightwing.

V

"One suspect is walking east of the bank. Be advised, if someone has a shot, take it."

"We've been taking it. This guy's not going down. He's got heavy body armor… Go for the head."

"The officers are firing at him and he's not going down."

"Any unit available to respond to 9L89, he's losing consciousness. Officer has been hit."

I was standing in front of the in wall television screen. My ears were listening to frantic officers over the live feed radio while my eyes were watching the shocking helicopter footage through the eyes of a criminal analyst and not as a father of a Bludhaven policeman.

As gunfire broke out at the Bank of America, I had been reviewing stock values over a fresh latte at my desk. Even still, I had been unaware that anything had happened. Selina had taken Mattie to her bi-annual respiratory therapy appointment and was then scheduled to take her to school after everything was done. Melinda had come over the intercom shortly before ten with an urgent message to turn on the news. And not a moment later, Jim had called to tell me he had seen Dick in the news footage, right in the middle of it all.

There was a knock on the door and when I looked over, I saw Melinda peer in, "Mr. Wayne?"

"Yes?" I replied softly.

"Is there," she took a step inside the room, "Is there anything I can get you?"

Having been with me for nearly a decade, she was all too well aware of how to judge my mood within a single glance. Her quiet voice told me she knew it wasn't a good one.

"No thank you… I… could you get Selina on the phone please."

"Sure thing." I watched as she left and returned to her desk. A moment later her voice was on the intercom, "It's going through on line two, Bruce."

"Thanks." I walked over and sat on the edge of my desk before picking it up and pressing the button.

Two rings later, "Hey, what's up?"

"Are you on speaker?" I asked rougher than I had intended.

There was a pause and then Selina said, "Not anymore, what's going on, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Where are you?"

"Mattie and I are getting some breakfast at Garf's, her appointment got bumped back an hour. Why? Bruce?" her tone had grown firmer but her voice had gotten quieter, as to not attract our daughter's attention.

I looked back to the television and went silent for a moment as the camera zoomed in on the two suspects as they paused at an intersection. They appeared to be yelling at one another… feuding as to how to escape? The one on the street veered east while the one in the car kept straight, driving slowly and firing out at the officers on the sidewalks. My eyes pleaded for a report on what officers had been wounded but they had only been able to admit that both officers and civilians had been wounded and there were no accurate numbers as of yet.

The radio voices continued, as desperate and frightened as before, but this time familiar, "We need someone here with some heavy guns. We need SWAT code three!"

Dick…

"Officer advised that you can get a clear shot of the suspect northbound Archwood from behind the Hughes Market."

"The suspects possibly have armor-piercing ammunition," Dick said.

Selina brought me back, "Bruce?"

I cleared my throat, "There's an incident in Bludhaven, armed bank robbery…"

"Does it relate to your… work?"

"No… It's Dick, he's on the scene…"

"How do you know, did he call you?"

I sighed, "It's all over the news, nationally Selina. I've never seen anything like it."

"Is he… okay?"

After a while she asked it again and I replied, "I don't know."

She promised to drop in after they were done at the doctor's office and when I told her not to, she said, "Bruce, don't start. I'll be there around eleven. Call me if you learn anything new."

I hung up the phone and returned to standing in front of the television as if being on my feet would help me think clearer. The chopper footage was covering the suspect driving the car as he made his way unchallenged down the road, firing through the shattered windshield at anyone in his path. There was no sign of the suspect that was on foot.

The reporter had been quiet for some time, leaving the audio feed from dispatch to play over the broadcast. I had been listening as carefully as I did when on patrols, hoping to pick up something other than the fear in the their voices.

Suddenly the static sound faded and the female reporter's surfaced, "This is Clare Camalones reporting to you live in Chopper Five. If you are just joining us, there is a serious situation here in downtown Bludhaven as a pair of armed bank robbers are attempting to evade capture from police using the most lethal force I have ever seen. Civilians have been requested to steer clear of the area as the suspects have been firing at both officers and innocents alike. We have some early reports of at least ten officers wounded, many of them critically, in addition to two or three innocent bystanders. Again, any and all individuals not involved should stay away from the blockades set up just shortly ago…

"The suspects have apparently separated, one is driving a white four door sedan and the other has moved out on foot, traveling east and has yet to be captured…"

The dispatch cut in, "One suspect is inside the vehicle and he's not come out. He may be hit. The other suspect is walking on the east side of the vehicle… He's taking aim, now! Everybody down!"

"Contact North Hollywood Station. Have 'em bring extra reserve ammunition out to the scene code three. Also we need extra batteries for these radios---."

A frantic voice interrupted, "Everybody down. Shots are being fired. One suspect is possibly injured inside the vehicle. And one is outside the white vehicle to the rear of the bank… If you've got a shot of the suspects, go for the legs. They don't have body armor on their legs!"

I changed the channel, only to see new footage of the incident. On the ground and far too close to be safe. A cop, leaning against a light pole, belt pulled tightly around his upper thigh. His face was covered in a sheen of sheet and his lids were heavy over his eyes. There was even audio pick up as the officer struggled to talk into his radio, "9...L...89... L...89."

The response was a gargled, "Advise units on the perimeter that when the officer is rescued, fire department has set up a command post at Fire Station 21 and is bringing in a helicopter to take him out."

The officer whispered, "9L89, thank you..." then dropped the radio as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"9L89, 9L89, come in... 9L89, 9L89, come in!"

Another channel showed images from the ground of the suspect driving the car, but had been from a safe distance, using zoom to get a great shot of the struggle. All four tires had been shot out and had paused in the middle of the road, surrounded by quiet houses and empty lawns. The door opened slightly, covered in dents from the officers' bullets, as the suspect stepped out

"Be advised that the suspect is out of the white vehicle and shooting at civilians."

"We have a citizen down."

"9L89, 9L89, come in. Unit is almost there."

When I changed the channel again, I was shocked to see an image of the suspect on foot. The cameraman was risking his life for the noon hour news. Several officers were in view as well, firing continuously at the suspect with no ill affect. I cringed as the AK was fired, sending out a stream of bullets and two men to the ground.

It was then I saw it.

While the officers fired back, the suspect turned towards them, incidentally also facing the camera lens. But behind him, concealed by a low brick fence was an officer taking aim and preparing to end it.

An officer's voice came over the dispatch transmission, "Does anybody have a clear shot at these guys?"

"I do. I'm taking it."

The cameraman noticed as well and zoomed in on the officer as he prepared his shot. He was not dressed as the other officers; instead he sported a full-length dark coat over a two-piece suit the color of coal. He had steely blue eyes and close cropped black hair that had been cut since I had last seen him at Christmas.

"No…" I said quietly.

Although gunfire had been echoing on the broadcast for the last forty minutes, the shot fired from the Beretta in Dick's hands seemed to be as loud as thunder.

The cameraman swore and focused back to the suspect as the bullet landed in the back of his head. The eyes behind the ski mask rolled skyward and the gun fell from his quivering hands shortly before he collapsed to the ground.

"Suspect is down, I repeat, suspect on foot is down!" a voice said, on the verge of cheering.

Officers closer to the fallen foe circled him, guns trained on his still body in case he decided to come back from the dead and get back to his feet.

As the camera went back to a broader picture, steering clear of the gore, it picked up an image of Dick as he jumped the fence he had been hiding behind. I watched as he glanced over at the body briefly before dropping his eyes to his hands. After holstering his weapon, he began to walk down the street and out of frame.

Eyes closed.

By the time Selina arrived, the other suspect had been shot and put into custody. Forty-four minutes of exchanging gunfire had finally come to a close. I had taken to sitting on the sofa that faced the tall windows. Although it would have appeared that I was looking out over the beautiful skyscrapers that flourished in Midtown, all I could see was a collage of images from the shootout mixed together. A gun in my son's hands…

My expression must have shocked Selina for when she walked into my office, she made her way right over to me and sat down, "What happened, is he okay?"

I shrugged slightly and looked over at her and said quietly, "Where's Mattie?"

She put her hand on mine, "I had Alfred come pick her up to take her to school so I could come here. He said it's all over?"

After I nodded, I replied, "Yes. One suspect dead, the other critically injured."

"What about the officers?"

I relayed the casualties to her and she bit her lip before squeezing my hand. In turn, I elaborated that Dick wasn't one of the injured officers and when she asked how I knew, I said, "I saw him, on the television. He was… involved in taking down one of the suspects."

She paused and leaned against me slightly while putting an arm around my midsection, "Which suspect?"

When my voice failed me and she realized which one.

V

After my nineteenth attempt, he finally answered the phone in a quiet and tired voice, "Grayson."

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, "Oh my God, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day," I said in a rushed breath.

He paused before replying, "Babs… I'm sorry. It's been pretty crazy here…"

Since the news footage had hit the television stations a little before ten that morning, I had been on the phone with a laundry list of police officials in Bludhaven that could not answer my simple question as to where Detective Richard Grayson was.

From there, I had analyzed all of the footage from all of the broadcasts in order to study the entire incident from the beginning until end with all the available vantage points. It seemed to be the only way to handle a situation as chaotic as the one that had taken place that morning. Perhaps the most shocking image had been the take down of the suspect that had been attempting to flee on foot where the officer who had saved the day had been none other than Dick.

Just thinking of him shooting a man from behind sent a shiver down my spine.

After taking a deep breath, I asked, "Are you okay?"

He took a long time to answer, letting over the sounds of deep voices, radio squawks and sirens to come over the line before he said, "I don't know… I think it's finally hitting home now…"

"Are you still on the scene?" I asked, letting more disbelief slip into my voice than I had intended.

"No. Out on the steps in front of HQ. Don't really want to go home… Been in debriefings all day… been interviewed about a million times about what happened…" he yawned, "I even had to fill out an expense report for the unmarked I drove this morning. Looks like a big brown hunk of Swiss cheese…"

I smiled sadly, thinking on how he would always try and hide his pain with a lame joke. And how long it had been since he had done so.

As I passed a sign for Downtown, I hit the turn signal and made my way towards the turnoff. Unable to be in Gotham any longer, I had decided that the only way I could be sure that Dick was all right was if my own two eyes saw it for themselves. Without a second thought, I had closed up my home, grabbed my purse and had headed straight to my car.

When I had called him that morning, shortly before his shift had started, Dick had brushed me off, saying he had a few errands to run before clocking in. He had sounded as if he was actually in a rush to get things done, not the quiet, angry voice he had used to brush me off over the last few months. I tolerated it and said I would call him later that night. That was before…

When I had seen him on the news, before shooting the suspect, I had been surprised at the concentration in his face. It seemed as if he truly knew what he was about to do and that it had to be done right or not at all. Thinking back on it, I suppose it was similar to his expressions prior to performing free falls from the Hart Tower or before infiltrating a Rogue's hideout. I wondered suddenly if Bruce had seen the same thing that I had or if he had seen anything beyond the gun in his son's hands.

"Babs, you there?" his voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."

Dick sighed, "Yeah, I heard that's been going around… Been thinking quite a bit myself."

"About?"

"Lots of things. Life. Work. Us."

"Anything good," I asked as I turned on to Broderick Avenue, "About us?"

"Maybe."

Had it been any other time, I knew he would have cracked a joke about something far too inappropriate to mention. That was if he wasn't depressed, exhausted and most likely in shock from the day's events.

As I came upon Bludhaven Police Headquarters, I slowed to a crawl and dimmed my lights. He was leaning against a light pole, his back towards me, wearing the coat I had given him for Christmas. He had smiled when he opened the gift, and said, "Well, I'll be the coolest kids in the department, but promise me you won't button my mittens to it, or the other guys will laugh at me…"

Not wanting to, I asked, "Have you talked to anyone else? Alfred, Bruce…"

"No," he interrupted me, "Not yet. I didn't really want a lecture from Bruce and Alfred's never as effective in the sympathy department over the phone… Need the fresh cookies for the full effect."

"True." I had called Bruce's cell phone earlier, for some reason unknown to me, and had gotten Selina instead. She confirmed that he knew what had happened and that he was dealing with it in his own moody way. But she had also said that Bruce had been genuinely concerned for Dick's safety. I wondered if Dick realized and I had to quench a sudden urge to convey the message to him.

As I came up behind him, I cut then engine and put into park. The soft sound caused him to turn slightly, giving me a full view of his tired face. At such a close distance, I noticed a slight tear in the sleeve of the coat and a dark stain the size of my hand. Had he been injured, clipped by one of over a thousand bullets?

He remained next to the light pole and smirked slightly, "You know, they passed a city ordinance in Bludhaven last summer prohibiting the use of cellular telephones while driving, subjecting those who do not comply a five-hundred dollar fine."

"Is that so? You going to arrest me?"

"Maybe," he began taking slow steps in my direction, "Can't expect such criminal behavior to take place around the upstanding citizens of Bludhaven."

"Right," I replied as he stepped up to the passenger side door. I rolled down the window with a touch of a button and hung up the phone, "Hello, Dick."

He hung up as well and pocketed the phone, "Hello, Babs."

"Long day?"

"Longest yet."

"Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, "Nope. Could use some chow though."

"Your place?"

He shook his head again, "I wouldn't if I were you."

"I'll take your advice…" I patted the empty passenger seat and he opened the door and stepped in. As soon as he shut the door, he leaned over and kissed me softly. He smelt of gunpowder and sweat, a fragrance I had admired when I had fallen in love with the Boy Wonder. "What was that for?"

He shrugged and sat back, "Not sure."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Just…" I looked over when he went quiet and noticed his eyes were squeezed shut and his lower lip was trembling, "Just drive."

And I did.

V

Wrung with a bought of insomnia, I had busied myself with a fresh cup of Earl Grey and a book of Hemingway's finest works in my quarters. Master Bruce had long since left for his nightly patrols of the city and his wife and child were safely sleeping on the third floor. The chaos of the holidays far behind us, it was thought that the New Year would be one with a quieter start. How very wrong we had been.

The incident in Bludhaven had been quite startling, even more so because Master Dick had been so closely involved. Particularly in the use of lethal force in defending his city against one of the two gunmen.

I had yet to speak at any great length with Master Bruce about the subject, in fact, when I had stated my gratitude that Master Dick had surfaced unscathed, he had growled incoherently before storming off to the Cave's entrance. Stalemate of some sort.

A sudden rap at the door caused me to look up suddenly from the page before taking a glance at the bedside clock. Ten after four. Only one soul would be up at this hour. A burdened soul I knew all too well. I couldn't count the nights he had sought solace from me, confused after the death of his parents, burdened by his initiative trials as a crime fighter and overwhelmed with the responsibilities of balancing the invaluable women of his life.

"Come in, Master Bruce."

The door opened soundlessly as he stepped into the room, "I hope I'm not disturbing you…"

"I removed my reading glasses and set them on the desk, "Why, that's never stopped you before, sir." I had expected a flash of anger or some sort of response, but was surprised when his brow only twitched softly. I cleared my throat, "Nevertheless, sir, I was not sleeping. Catching up on my reading."

"Ah," he said before taking a seat in one of the three chairs I had in the outer room of my quarters. He slouched with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the only time I accepted improper posture.

"Is there something amiss, sir?"

I watched on as he leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his thighs and then his face in the palms of his hands. After he let out a low sigh, he kneaded his temples; "I can't get it out of my head… It just plays over and over… Tormenting me."

Even though I knew as to what he was referring, I asked, "What is this image, sir?"

"Dick… I brought him into the world of violence and I though I had… taught him a way to manage it without taking lives of others… And then he…" he sat up suddenly and braced his hands on the arms of the chair, "Alfred, he shot him from behind. He killed him from behind…"

"That he did, sir."

"You don't understand, Alfred," he stood and stepped over to face the window, "I taught him, right from the beginning, that it was wrong… We have no right to take the lives of others… Even with Zucco… He knew it wasn't… Why, now, what's changed?"

I allowed an awkward silence to pass before rising myself and pouring more tea into my cup, "A great deal."

He turned to face me, "What?"

"A great deal has changed, sir. He is no longer your partner, he is his own man. A fact, which you seem to be missing in your equation, if I may be so bold. There is no doubt in my mind that he took every single idea that you emblazoned on him in his youth with him when he left your side."

I paused and motioned for him to sit. When he didn't, I sighed, "And I am quite sure that the decision he made this morning was done so not only in the midst of a dangerous and life threatening situation, but it was also the same course of action that I would have chosen, given the chance."

His voice came suddenly, loudly, "Alfred, I don't care what you would have done, I care about what he did! Alfred, everything we stood for is now gone all because I failed to teach him---"

"Bruce," when our eyes met, mine were harder and he, for a change, relented and took a seat beside me, "You did not fail him. And he did not fail you. He crossed the line as an officer of the law, not as a masked vigilante. His commanders had ordered him take whatever means necessary to apprehend a potentially lethal threat to the people of Bludhaven. And his only option was to make a choice he would most likely rather not, because of what you taught him."

As Master Bruce looked down at his hands as they rested on his legs, I allowed a brief silence before continuing, "Sir, I would not pretend to understand the turmoil that your mind is going through, nor would I want to. However, we must not forget what anguish your son is facing, alone I might add, and not only from what took place today."

The look on his face said he had no response in the oral form. But where Master Bruce was unable to communicate with words, his actions took precedent.

He stood suddenly, although I remained seated. When he turned towards the door, he only took three steps before about-facing, his mouth opened as if to speak. I returned to my tea and watched out of the corner of my eye as he turned once more and left the room after saying, "Thank you, Alfred," in a far too quiet voice.

Left alone once more, I did my best to avert my mind towards poetry and not to the countless memories that were threatening to surface. The relationship I held with Master Bruce only seemed to be strengthened in light of struggle and subsequent triumph. When he had first told me of Master Dick's interest in pursuing a career in official law enforcement, I had been secretly pleased, thinking that perhaps this endeavor would allow his need for vigilante efforts to decrease. A hope I had for Master Bruce as well, but surely one that would not be realized.

But in recent months, I had watched on as the boy I had scolded for hanging on chandeliers struggle so desperately for success in such a dreadful case. And with the failure of reaching said success had only been furthered hampered with the stressors of the day crashing down on him without a moment's notice. All before I could justify my need to confront him about it. To comfort him…

Perhaps we had let the young master drift too far from our reach, Master Bruce. Even as his own man, he still needed his family. No matter what age, every boy needed a father.

Surprisingly, I uttered a slight yawn. How utterly ironic, that the day would be dawning and fatigue would be finally surfacing. As I closed my eyes, I set the book on the desktop and reclined back into the chair, losing the battle with my recollections.

It was the least I could do.

V


	12. One And Only: XII

Title: One And Only: XII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: Is anyone else as psyched (read: obsessive) as I am about Batman Begins?

V

Clank.

"Whoo."

Pop.

Clank.

After the tenth rep, I pulled my hands free from the rubber grips of the bar on the Nautilus bench press and slowly sat up, listening carefully for a full minute. Silence.

Selina had taken Mattie for the morning to the Roberson Museum to check out the grand opening of the new Children's Discovery Center. Shortly after breakfast, I had watched them drive off and was then surprised when Alfred announced he was going into town to run a few errands. With the house to myself, I had tried to act occupied by reading the Sunday paper and real estate journals that I hadn't gotten to that week. By ten-thirty I had read everything I could find and had finished off the pot of coffee in the kitchen.

A quick trip upstairs and a change of clothes later, I had holed up in the second floor gym room. With Selina and Mattie due back a little after one and dinner reservations at six, I reasoned it would be my only chance for a quiet workout for the rest of the day.

I had warmed up with floor exercises and stretches, followed by a few sets of crunches and push-ups. When I rose, I was between a rack of free weights and a Nautilus pressing machine. As I sat on the bench, I reasoned with myself that it was because the machine was more balanced and better calibrated for the work and that since I was by myself, it was better to err on the side of caution. Not that it was easier on my shoulder joints than the free weights.

Clank as I pressed up on the bar and the weights shifted

"Whoo," as I forced air out through my mouth.

Pop as the scapular cartilage rotated.

Clank as I brought the bar back down.

After nearly an hour of solitude, I took my break and heard them long before I saw them. Soft voices echoed in the hall and it only took a second to recognize them as Cassandra and Tim. Selina had mentioned how much time they had been spending together lately and how "cute they were".

Although relationships between our sorts were strongly discouraged, I was unsure as to when I would interfere, or rather if. Both were adults and both were certainly more mature than Dick and Barbara when they had begun a relationship. Aside from that, it was difficult for me to cast stones when I had found a connection in a certain masked individual…

Tim's faded shirt and shorts clad figure stepped into the room first and paused when he saw me, "Hey, didn't know you were up here… We can come back if you want."

I wiped down the seat and moved to adjust the weights on the Pectoral Adductor/Abductor, "It's fine," I said before taking a seat and pressing my forearms against the pads.

Cass entered as well, dressed in a Lycra tank top and running shorts. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they stretched quickly before taking on the treadmills that sat side-by-side facing the rear window. I began working myself, trying not to think how I had taught Mattie to use the treadmill a few weeks ago. Selina had found us as I had been cooling down while Mattie was just getting warmed up. She had walked up next to me and kissed my cheek before whispering, "To have the endless energy of a six-year-old once more…"

The winter weather had ended the soccer and riding for her so she needed an outlet for her energy that remained indoors. She was probably the only six-year-old that had an exercise program, although she thought of it only as time spent with me. Her favorite activity, however, was tumbling on the mats, practicing handstands, cartwheels and round-offs. Dick had taught her quite a few maneuvers over the summer, and had commented that, "Give her to me for a few months and she'll be ready for the circus."

Clank. Whoo. Pop. Clank.

Crunch.

My lip twitched downward slightly as I pulled my arms down off of the press pads, the left one slower than the right. I chanced a look over at Tim and Cass and watched as they had begun to increase their speed on the treadmills as well as the incline. Preoccupied, thankfully. I had dislocated both of my shoulders several times in my life, but the left one had suffered a slight torsion in the supraspinatus ligament two years earlier when a grapple had dislodged from its hold on a gargoyle and had resulted in a harsh save on my part. I had landed shoulder first into a brick wall in a desperate attempt to grab onto the window ledge. I had been in a sling for a week and a half out of the required four weeks and it never healed quite right.

Even still it caught me off guard when the scarred tissue reminded me of its presence.

I gave myself a five second break before finishing the last set of fifteen reps. Instead of focusing on the pain in my shoulder, I watched Tim and Cassandra as they slowed their gait and began to cool down. Being on the other side of the room, it was difficult to hear their conversation over the whir of the treadmill and the creaking of my joints and it didn't help matters that they were facing away from me.

Shortly after Tim had started school last fall, we had adjusted his routines considerably. He had been more than glad to take on the extra work, feeling he could use it after a fairly quiet summer. As a result, his mass had taken surprising increase that had been beyond what I had expected.

Cassandra hit his arm suddenly, causing him to lose a step. When he regained his stride he shook his head before motioning to the door with his left hand. Cassandra shrugged and turned the machine off before stepping off it. A moment later, Tim did the same and followed her out the door. He was halfway through before pausing, "We're going downstairs for a while… Spar for a bit."

After the last rep, I stood and nodded.

When he was gone, I sat back down again, eyes closed and massaged what muscles I could reach on my shoulder. Maybe after dinner, I could get Selina to work out the knots in my back… No, I thought, better to do it after patrols were done.

"Am I interrupting?"

I opened my eyes to see Selina at the doorway with a bottle of water. She walked over to me and sat on my lap before I could make a move to stand up. When I reached for the water bottle, she held it away from me and asked, "What's the magic word?" After kissing her cheek I whispered in her ear and she laughed, "Close enough… Did you have lunch yet?" she asked as she gave me the bottle."

I took two quick sips, gave it back to her and then rested my head against her collarbone as her arms slipped around my neck, "No." Her fingers traced a shoulder blade and found the one spot I couldn't reach, "When did you get back?"

"Few minutes ago. We picked up this magnetic kit, she's testing her stuffed animals for magnetism in her room. We also went to Armand's. Brought you home some rigatoni."

"Thanks."

Her hand stopped rubbing my back as she pressed her lips against my brow, a mere inch from a faint, round scar, "You all right?"

"Fine."

Selina uncapped the bottle, "I'll drink to that."

After a moment of silence, I asked her, "I've been wondering… How long I should let it go on?"

She resumed rubbing my shoulder, "What? You're insanity? That really long gray hair that pokes out of the back of your neck?"

I almost reached up to feel the back of my neck but resisted. "Tim and Cassandra."

"What?" she pushed away from me slightly and our eyes locked, "You must be some kind of arrogant, self-centered… Never mind."

"I'm serious, Selina."

Her eyes hardened slightly, "And I'm not?" A pair of soft hands cupped either side of my jaw as two sharp thumbnails grazed the skin covering my jugular vein, "Promise me you won't interfere."

Grunt.

"Promise me."

I grunted again and tried to look away from her.

The pressure on my throat increased, "Bruce."

"Don't push it…" after a sudden pinch on my throat, I continued, "Fine."

Another kiss on my forehead and she was up off my lap and headed towards the door. When she looked back and asked if I was coming, I nodded and rose, "Yes, dear."

V

"Again."

"You sure? You're bleeding…"

I wiped a smear of blood from under my nose and then rubbed it off on my shirt, "It's fine."

Cass shrugged and said, "Whatever," before taking a side step and balancing her stance offensively. I spread my own two feet to a wider base and took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever she was about to dish out.

She came at me suddenly, a flying roundhouse that I dodged effortlessly but it was followed by a chop to my neck that I barely blocked. I moved forward the second her hand hit my forearm, planning to set her off balance in order to knock her down. Instead, her hand latched on to my arm and she bent over slightly, using my momentum to flip me on to my ass.

It wasn't a second later that I jumped back on my feet, ready for more.

"This isn't very productive," she said as she turned her back to me, fluidly moving into a handstand.

"It is. It's exactly what I need."

Cass proceeded to bear her weight on one hand before responding, "Getting beat up?"

"You're not beating me up," I snapped.

She flipped back up on to her feet and walked over to me casually before pressing her finger to my upper lip, pulling it back smeared in red and holding it front of my face, "I think I am."

I smirked slightly before lashing out and snagging her wrist and twisting her arm behind her back. My other arm came around her front and locked around her throat, pulling her back to me. She muttered something that sounded like "Are you kidding me?" before head butting my jaw and elbowing me in the side of the neck and in my side below my ribs at the same time.

I held fast and replied, "I think I am."

Being the gentleman that I tried to be, I relented and let her go. We had been sparring for a little less than an hour, neither of us truly winning a match. I still remembered back when she had first joined our work, how she could have me pinned on the mats in the blink of an eye. I had always figured it was because I was a lesser combatant but she had explained to me that it was the way I perceived a fight. With her help, I had been able to learn her skill of predicting an opponent's move almost as good as she.

Then again I knew I would never be quite as good, simply because the man who had taught her had done so to turn her into the ultimate assassin.

"Water?"

I looked over at her to see her offering a bottle of water. I took it and chugged a bit before glancing at the computer bay, "Shall we?"

She wiped her face with a towel and then threw it at me, "After you."

Crossing the cold stone floor from the training area to the upper level computer console took a long silent five minutes. When we arrived, I looked at the single chair and offered for her to take a seat. Cass shook her head and planted herself on the thick arm of the chair. After letting out a breath, I sat in the chair and went to town on the keyboard.

In light of an unusual spike in criminal activity, Batman had decided that in order for the major problems to each receive attention, it was best to split the caseload. He was working on a drug ring that involved production sites in Columbia, packaging in Gotham and distributing up and down the east coast. Cass and I had taken on an unusual pattern of missing persons that we had collectively traced back to the beginning of January.

There were twenty-one young women reported missing within the last two and a half months, all of which had similar build, characteristics, as well as age. Originally, we had suspected some sort of sexual predator in Gotham, but none of the women ever showed up, either dead or alive. This meant either whoever was taking these women was storing them, most likely dead, or was sending them out of the city. Last week, Cass had suggested a possibly black-market slavery trade and we were currently working along those lines.

After a few keystrokes, I brought up a map of Gotham that was marked with the last known whereabouts of the missing women. For the most part, each had been on the eastern side of the city, with only four of them being more central and two on the western side. Unfortunately, the eastern side of the city happened to be larger with far too many dark corners for us to search alone.

"Bring up the list again," she said softly.

I keyed it in and a second later the spreadsheet we had filled in popped up. It had been a listing of all the top clubs, bars and restaurants in Gotham that were in a one mile radius of each of the last known sighting locations. Needless to say, it was quite an inventory.

"Where do we even begin?" I muttered.

"Top of the list," she answered as she pointed the cursor at the first name: 7 Deadly Sins. It wasn't uncommon to hear the club's name and address over the scanners at night for one of the many fights or robberies that they suffered.

"You sure you want to do this?"

She shrugged, "I don't think you would look good in a skirt."

I laughed a bit and sat back in the chair. We had decided to start staking out some of the high-activity clubs for unsavory characters, and the best way was to get right into the thick of things. For the next few days, we were to stakeout a selection of locations; get the regular flow of people down and to look out for anything out of the ordinary. Then, after a few costume selections and a well-placed wire, Cass would be going undercover into the clubs by the end of the week.

At least if anyone tried to make a move on her, I felt comfortable knowing she could put him into traction at Mercy General.

… "Are you listening to me?"

I looked up at her, "What?"

"I asked when you wanted to meet tonight. To head out."

After I closed my eyes I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Not sure. I'll check in with you at the Clocktower, go from there."

Cass slipped off of the arm of the chair and nodded, "Sounds like a plan."

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked as she headed for the stairs, "We have to figure things out for tonight."

She turned her head slightly, "Can't think on an empty stomach."

Logical.

When I rose from the chair, she was already on the fifth step. I took a few quick strides and was soon at her side. As we paused before the entrance, I unlocked it and opened it before offering, "After you."

Upon reaching the kitchen, we realized that Alfred had yet to return, as the bounties of groceries he was off purchasing were clearly absent. There were, however, a few pieces of coffee cake left from the other day and we quickly went to work on making them disappear.

"So I was thinking we could work our way north, start off at the Sin Club, then go up to at least 59th and Harrington."

Her brows arched, "That's ten clubs."

When I shrugged I moved off of the stool and opened the refrigerator in search of something to wash down the cake with. I retrieved a glass carafe of milk and said, "Wear your dancing shoes." Just as I placed the glass to my lips, I felt my conscience tug at the back of my mind, reminding me that I was not in my own home. When I saw Cass's eyes widen, I thought at first it had been because she knew the ramifications of my actions, especially since she lived with Barbara, who was known for vacuuming her vacuum cleaner off.

So when I heard Bruce clear his throat from behind me, it took all of my wits to keep from dropping the milk and spitting what I had in my mouth all over the floor.

I stood frozen in place as he entered the kitchen, reached behind me for a small brown paper bag that was in the still opened refrigerator and then crossed the floor to retrieve a knife and a fork from the drawer. Just as I turned to see him head for the door, he said, "I'd finish that milk up if I were you, Alfred's pulling up the driveway."

Cass's laughter didn't help any as I guzzled frantically. I managed to rinse the glass out and set in the dishwasher before dashing back to the stool just as the service entrance door opened. As Alfred walked in, Cass pointed to her own upper lip and I wiped mine quickly, removing possibly the biggest milk moustache I had sported since fifth grade.

"Ah, Master Timothy, Miss Cassandra, what, pray tell, are you up to this lovely afternoon?" he asked as he entered the room, a paper bag in one arm with a head of celery sticking out.

When I caught his slight wink, I smiled and stood, "Why, I was hoping to help bring in the groceries."

"Wonderful," he set his bag on the counter and continued, "There are twelve more bags in the Town Car, and mind the eggs, Maser Timothy."

I headed for the door and looked back when Cass didn't follow me. She glanced at the clock on the wall, "Yikes. Have to get back," then she smiled at me, "Later." My hopeful smiled for her help quickly faded into a scowl as she commented Alfred on the cake before departing. Leaving me alone with twelve bags of groceries.

Boy Wonder, master of carrying perishables and non-perishable alike in both paper and plastic.

V

"Did you get lost?" I asked.

Cass, who had just walked into the den, shrugged, "Had a lot to do."

She had gone up to the Manor to work with Tim on getting their case's information ready for their preliminary investigations prior to the undercover work they had planned for later in the week. It surely was a tough case to work, even with the both of them on it. It had been unfortunate that we hadn't caught it earlier, hoping to spare what few lives we could have.

Then again, as Batman had said, it wasn't all that obvious to begin with. Young woman, ages seventeen to twenty-two going missing is unfortunately not all that uncommon. Run-aways, college dropouts or even moving out of the city in hopes for a better life could have been why each one was no longer accounted for. But the numbers of girls missing and the similar characteristics had finally suggested something more fowl than scaring Mom and Dad but taking the train to Metropolis for a week or so.

After slipping off her shoes by the door, Cass walked in and took a seat on the sofa. I was sitting on the carpet, surrounded by newspapers and magazines all featuring a variety of stories and pictures but all with a similar theme.

The cover of Time magazine was a full color image of the first gunman to fall in the Bludhaven Bank Shootout that took place two weeks ago. The gunman himself, who was aiming in the general direction of the camera, was not in complete focus, but the background was clear as crystal. Covered by a low brick wall, Dick's form stood out amidst the fresh snow and light surroundings as it was cloaked in the dark coat and suit beneath it. Perhaps what stood out the most in the photograph was the determined look on his face, the clarity in his eyes and the sure grip he head on the Beretta.

Taken by a photographer that had followed the daring cameraman that had videoed the event, the picture was up for the Pulitzer and had been seen in papers around the nation.

I had saved every single article and picture out of morbid fascination of documenting the event and its effects. The city budget for Bludhaven has already been challenged with proposals for more powerful weaponry for all patrol cars in the city in addition for more officers to be trained in SWAT methods. Those who were in SWAT already had made it to the scene just in time to see the regular officers bring down the second suspect. In fact, the man who had been traced as the official shooter of the second gunman had in fact been Dick's quasi-partner, Trey Richardson.

Dick, Trey and two other officers were scheduled to receive the Medal of Valor in a ceremony that was to take place two weeks later. I could only imagine how Dick felt about that, being rewarded for killing a man.

"You have the Press Sun?"

I looked up to see Cass eyeing the Sunday paper. As much as she disliked reading, she had finally found something that she enjoyed: the classifieds and Dear Abby. After folding it, I handed her the newspaper and began to pick up my clippings, "Was Bruce up there? This morning, did you see him?"

She nodded as she flipped through the pages, "Just for a bit… Cool…"

I looked up, "What?"

She flipped the page she was looking at so I could see it as she pointed to a part of the classifieds, "Great Dane puppies. Only a thousand dollars."

I rolled my eyes as she smiled. She had been fighting the uphill battle of getting a pet for nearly a year. On her birthday in January, she had even been daring enough to bring home a stray cat, of which I promptly had her take it to a shelter. I told her fish were great pets and before I knew it she had dragged me to an exotic fish store in hopes to buy a piranha.

"Do you know how big Great Danes get to be?" I asked her.

She nodded, "Big dog. Guard dog."

"More like couch dog. Not much around here to guard."

I heard her sigh before she went back to reading the paper.

Once I had the scraps of paper picked up and the clippings safely tucked into a binder, I set everything on the end of the coffee table before pushing myself back up into my chair. I then released the brakes, grabbed the binder and scraps and made my way down the hall and into my bedroom. Just as I reached my door, I heard Cass call out, "Aussie Shepherd for 500, already trained to heel livestock!"

"In your dreams," I muttered. After I set my belongings on my dresser, I made my way to the bedside table and retrieved the phone from its cradle. I punched in ten digits and held my breath as it began to ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring. "This is Dick Grayson, I'm currently dazed and confused so leave a message and I'll get back to you later."

Beep.

"Dick, you there?… Dick?"

Suddenly his voice interrupted, "Hey."

"Screening our calls now?" I asked, doing my best to sound friendly.

He paused, "No, I was sleeping."

I glanced at my watch and frowned to see it was quarter of two. Then again, what else was he supposed to do with his time? Following the shootout, he had been put on two weeks of paid, but forced, vacation time, or as Dick had called it "an evaluation period so they know I'm not crazy". Had the shootout taken place at any other time of year, he had said that it wouldn't have been a big deal. But, since it followed the unsuccessful conclusion of such a tragic case, his superiors were playing it safe in handling his stress load. His superior had even threatened to have him arrested if he was within a one mile radius of headquarters.

"Hear about the photograph?" I asked him.

He sighed, "Yeah. Should have shaved that morning… Look like a regular old madman in a trench coat. But at least my hair looked nice…" he said, his voice eerily flat and dull.

There was a soft beep and I grimaced, "Hang on, Dick, I have someone on the other line."

"Fine."

I switched over, "Hello?"

"Hi, Barbara, it's me," Selina answered, "You have any plans tonight?"

"Not really, why?"

"Alfred was supposed to watch Mattie for Bruce and I tonight but it turns out he has plans with Leslie… And I know it's last minute but…"

"Oh, sure, Mattie's no problem. When are you coming into town?"

She spoke, relief coming through her voice, "Around six. So we would probably drop her off a little before, maybe quarter of. She should be pretty tuckered out, we went to Roberson for the morning…"

"Okay, well, we'll see you later."

"Thanks, Barbara, I owe you Prada."

I laughed and said good-bye before switching back to Dick. Just as I was about to tell him I had returned, I heard the annoying dial tone on the receiver. He had hung up. As I set the phone back down in its cradle, I resisted the urge to call him back. As much as I wanted to be there for him, I knew he needed his space, his own time to think things through. I knew the feeling all too well, I thought as I sat back into my chair.

When I returned to the den, Cass picked up on the change in my disposition instantly and asked what was up. I forced a slight smile and told her that Mattie was coming over later while Bruce and Selina were out. She smiled as well, although I knew hers wasn't for show.

V

It had been a good plan, considering that confronting Bruce about any sensitive topic generally lead to drawn out disputes where no one emerged victorious.

And it almost worked.

First, dinner was fabulous as we had the best table in Dorsea, the one in the upper left corner that was on a slightly raised level and had those gorgeous iron detailed windows that overlooked the Park. From there, we had driven to Fifth and Brady, parked in a private lot, and then toured the streets on foot for nearly a half hour, my arm hooked around his. I pointed through windows at Gucci at the dress I had tried on last week and he had smirked to himself, most likely picturing the form-fitting black gown on my body.

Just as we returned to the car, I asked him, "Have you thought about going to see him, yet?"

He opened my door for me and I paused before slipping in as he asked, "See who?"

My brow rose, "You know who."

"Not this again…" he muttered as he walked around the front of the car and got in the driver's seat.

"How bad could it be?" I asked, "Just to go and check in on him. Drop in to say 'Hello, Goodbye' and then come home. Call him, if you don't want to waste the gas-."

"It's not that simple, Selina," he said softly as he turned the key and put the car into reverse.

"Then explain it to me, Bruce, because apparently I don't see the complexity of the situation."

He was silent until we were out on the street, "He needs his space. That's why he moved to Bludhaven."

"A different zip code doesn't change the fact that he's still your son, Bruce, not to mention the fact that he is most likely in a desperate need of guidance."

He through me a harsh glance, "Then perhaps he should come to me."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, his voice and reaction to my inquiry well beyond what I had expected. To push it meant certain arguing and a very long ride home. However, to sit on it only meant the topic would be discussed later, of which would be just as bad. It was ridiculous trying to argue with Bruce, both of us being the most dogmatic individuals I had ever come across in my life. It made me wonder how Alfred had survived his teenage years. Oh, to hell with it…

"Why are you mad at him?"

I waited as he drew a long breath and remained silent. When I looked over at him, his hands were tight on the steering wheel and the shift stick and his eyes were frozen in position staring out at the street. Finally, he replied, "I'm not mad at him. It's… complicated."

I moved in the seat as to face him better, "You keep saying that, Bruce, but it's not. He needs support right now, from you I might add, to get through this… whatever he's going through. Simple as that-."

"It's no-."

"Damnit, Bruce, just listen to me…" He glanced over at me briefly before looking straight again. "You two have barely spoken since May… And when you have it's never ended on a good note. You've been punishing him ever since his promotion by shutting him out."

He decelerated quickly as he came upon a red light, making no move to respond. Because my words were true.

Shortly before Memorial Day the summer before, Dick had announced his upward movement into a second-class detective position, one of the youngest in years at Bludhaven Police Department. Where we had all congratulated him on his efforts and accomplishments, Bruce had yet to say a word about it, even months later. I remembered pulling Dick aside the afternoon that he had come up to the Manor to tell us and had done my best to show him how happy we were for him. He had nodded slowly while watching Bruce leave the room, the pride he had arrived with all but gone.

And it seemed that everything else had spawned from that very afternoon. His break up with Barbara, his increased workload at the department, hell, his obsession with that murder case. Add the shootout and his sudden rocket launch into the spotlight of a situation he would have done anything to avoid…

"I'm not mad at him," he said suddenly, "I'm… I don't know what I am. It's almost been two weeks, with constant exposure of the… It still… doesn't even seem real to me. I know what he did, I know why he did it and even still I can't accept it," a car honked from behind us and we both looked to see the light had turner. Before he pressed on the gas, he spoke quietly, "I won't."

I let a moment pass before I reached out and put my hand on his arm, "Then help him accept it, Bruce. Yes, he's his own man, and yes, he's living his own life, but don't wait until it's too late to do something."

The remainder of the drive to the Clocktower was silent. I went in and picked up Mattie and her belongings while Bruce remained in the car parked out front. She was in a state of half-sleep and was softly snoring in the back seat by the time we merged onto the Bristol exit. He didn't even utter a sound when he carried her up to her room once we got home and tucked her into bed before heading down into the Cave.

A silent Bruce meant one of two things.

Either he was brewing a great plan of action against whatever foe was in his sights.

Or he was remorseful for his actions.

V

I was just approaching the completion of the third chakra in my meditation when I smelt barbeque sauce and pizza. I partially lifted the lid of my left eye and scanned Barbara's den.

Nothing.

The Clocktower had been fairly busy that evening, especially when Mattie was there. Barbara had agreed to sit for them while out at dinner, of which I was glad to hear. I rarely had time on the weekends to be with her and after spending so much time with her when she was younger…

Not fifteen minutes after Selina had called about sitting, the Commissioner had called asking for Barbara. When she was done talking with him, she told me he had invited her to dinner and wanted to know if I could sit for her. No problem. Mattie had eaten before coming into town so the two hours we were together was spend playing video games and then some tumbling in the Training Room. She loved it when I did back flips and round offs, but from what I could tell, she wasn't far off from doing them herself. When Selina showed up a little after seven, Mattie was exhausted and certainly ready for bed.

And as the door shut behind them, I had the place to myself.

I had used chakra meditation on and off for years before going on patrols. I had narrowed the seven centers of focused energy down to the big three: the navel for power, the heart for balance and the third eye for wisdom and premonition. But no power or balance or wisdom could conquer the aroma of Frankie's Barbeque Chicken Pizza.

"Cass?" I heard from the foyer. I opened my left eye further just in time to see Tim walk in with a cardboard pizza box and a two bottles of Cherry Coke. When he saw me, he paused in mid-step and said, "Oh…"

"Minute," I mumbled softly as a finished the concentration and then brought my vitals up back to normal with deeper, quicker breathing. In fifty-five seconds I blinked a few times and then stretched before standing, "Dinner?"

He nodded and then walked towards the kitchen, "Where's Barbara?"

I followed him quietly, "Out to dinner with her father. She should be back before nine though."

I found two plates and napkins as he set the pizza on the stovetop. I put the soda in two glasses with ice while he dished out the slices. Instead of eating in the dining room, where we would most likely get something dirty and then get yelled at for it, we pulled out two stools from the pantry and sat at the counter top.

Dinners at Barbara's were always interesting. I preferred them to be up at the Manor, but every once in a while she decided to play hostess. And after a few times, it was certain to all of us that as soon as dessert and coffee were done, it was wise to make an urgent excuse for departure.

In order to avoid small talk or even worse, Full Contact Pictionary…

"So what was so urgent that you had to bail out on me?" he asked after rinsing his mouth with soda.

I smirked and shrugged casually, "I had Yoga and then I had a paper to write… And a shower… A nap too."

"Right. So much for being there for one another… Those were twelve seriously full bags of food."

I nibbled on the crust, "Well, it's good you did it, not make Alfred do all the work."

He rolled his eyes and I laughed softly. We had an inside joke about being there for one another that had started two years ago. We had come across a group of teenagers stealing vast quantities of paint from a storage room at a local school. Their intentions were to paint obscenities all over the exterior of the school and on the sidewalks. When we showed up, they had painted in big red letters "skool sux as…" and then promptly sprinted off when they saw us. Robin had been backing up while watching the hoodlums run frantically down the street when he had slipped on the wet paint and landed on a five-gallon tub of red paint.

Needless to say, he spent rest of the week trying to get paint out of his hair. And ears. When he had asked why I hadn't warned him, I found a cardboard box that the boys had taken as well, containing brushes and rollers. I found a plastic hanging sign and hooked it around his neck before reading it aloud, "Fresh paint. Ye be warned."

As I reached for the third slice, I looked up and caught him staring at me. He quickly looked over at his glass and picked it up as a distraction. I had to admit, as things were better between us, they weren't altogether quite right. Having been able to read body language for nearly my entire life, it wasn't difficult to see how nervous he was at times when he was around me. It wasn't that he was afraid to act on his feelings; I felt that he was afraid of the consequences for doing so if things didn't turn out right.

Men.

To get his mind of his problems, I asked, "So did you get the list figured out?"

"List?"

"Of clubs, for tonight," I elaborated.

Tim nodded, "Right. I have them all figured out, location wise, so when we patrol over there we just need to check out the possible lookout locations, for, um… concealment."

After a quick bite, I replied, "Good. Did you tell him?"

His left eyebrow twitched, "I told him the general area so he knew where we had things covered."

I switched the topic again, "Did you want to see the outfits I had planned for the undercover work… I saw a few in town, I might buy. Fit the part well."

His Adam's apple bobbed a few times as his mouth fought to stay closed. It had been hilarious when we had first discussed what attire would be suitable. He had done his best to remain polite while telling me I had to dress like a skank. I smiled thinking how his cheeks had turned red when he had gotten onto the topic of how I should act while undercover.

What had been the term he had used… Provocative.

When he didn't respond, I asked, "So, do you want to see them?"

"Th-them?" he stammered.

I rolled my eyes as I slipped off of the stool, "The outfits… for the disguise."

He shook his head quickly, "That's okay, I'm sure you can pick something that will be fitting… for the part, and fit you of course… Since they are your clothes and all…" The faintest tinge of red crept over his ears. He needed to shut up. Fast.

Unlike Tim, I could think while acting, not requiring the downtime of doing so before taking an action. So as I paused next to him, I knew what was coming as my perception slowed time to a crawl. It was useful in combat, being able to break down the various moves of an opponent in order to predict the next one.

If only Tim could have predicted that my next move wasn't to reach for the last slice, but place my lips on his.

Eight and a half seconds. An eternity. A blink of an eye.

I as I backed away, he stood, eyes wide with disbelief. I knew he wasn't angry in the least, more like shocked as to what had happened. Instead of watching him watch me with that dumb look on his face, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall towards my room.

Sans mask, I had all but suited up by the time he had followed my tracks. He looked a bit more relaxed, almost happy in fact. I watched as he bit his lip before saying, "If you wanted the last piece, all you had to do was ask."

Hands on my hips, I asked, "Is that so? What if I just took it?"

"That would be stealing," he retorted.

"Possession is nine/tenths of the law," I shot back, doing my best not to smile.

He stepped closer, "I paid for it."

"You offered."

Tim paused, then said softly as he closed the gap between us, "Then, you accepted."

"Tomato."

"Tomahtoe."

"Do you always have to be this difficult?" he asked as he carefully put a hand over mine as it rested on my hip.

"Do you have to be so?"

Twenty-nine seconds. Eternity times ten. Far cry from a blink of an eye.

V


	13. One And Only: XIII

Title: One And Only: XIII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: Dick's dream sequence reflects events seen in the 1966 film "Batman" starring Adam West and Burt Ward. Mega-thanks to Chris for the awesome idea… It's a real hoot!

A/N 4: BWD (Big White Dog) is based on that seen in NBC's "Friends"

V

When I first came to Gotham City, I pulled sixty-hour workweeks without breaking a sweat. I could run off of nothing but Pixie cups of scalding brackish liquid that passed as coffee if you added enough creamer to it. Chasing down bad guys and bringing in murdering scum were daily deeds.

That was twenty years ago.

Since then, I had lost my first wife and son through divorce, brought about because I had been too wrapped up in the job. I had taken custody of my niece, and had done my best to make her a good person in a hellish city. Even still, I had to watch her lose the use of her legs because of a madman's unrelenting hatred towards me. I had lost my second wife, after struggling through No Man's Land, to a single bullet. I bore witness to a man's war on crime grow harder with the passing of every year. I watched a man, who had once been a tiny boy in awe with his mentor, shoot a man in the back of the head, crossing a line he had set years ago, in order to save the lives of his fellow officers.

For the last two weeks, I had done more reflecting on my own life than I would have cared to. When I attended briefings on the third floor or when I was faced with unbalanced work rosters or injured cops in the field, I couldn't help but see my personal problems filter through.

Two nights earlier, I had spontaneously taken Barbara out to dinner. We hadn't spent a great deal of time together and that always bothered me. When she was younger, I had let so many things pass me by, of which I felt guilty for. I should have been there for her…

We had gone to Carmelli's, one of her favorite restaraunts. Over shrimp penne pasta and White Zinfadel, we caught up on life, chatted for nearly an hour before running out of things to say. We had even discussed the shootout and Dick and how we both felt for him. With clean plates and nothing left to talk about, I brought new information to the table, something I had been avoiding for far too long.

The department had been trying to get rid of me for years, wanting someone younger in the position of leading the city's law enforcers. I had no financial dependency on the job, more so a psychological one. If I wasn't the commissioner, what would I be? And how could some yuppie possibly be knowledgeable enough to take on the position?

When I really sat down to think about it, I guess I didn't want to give in to the fact that I wasn't the same James Gordon that I had been when I had stepped off that train twenty earlier.

After I relayed it all to Barbara, I had been surprised when she reached for my hand and squeezed it softly. She didn't look to be shocked at all, if anything, she seemed relieved. I asked her about it and she had replied, "Dad, Gotham is a different city than what it used to be. You don't need to be in the middle of all of this violence… It's time to give someone else a chance… To learn the things you did, to do the things you did."

I had nodded, partially agreeing with her and partially accepting the idea itself.

For the last hour and a half, I had been pouring through the random files and items in my office, clearing up what I could and trying to make sense of what I couldn't. The next day would be the first day of spring and the night was unseasonably balmy and warm. I had cracked open the left hand window slightly, to let some air in, but not enough to disturb the papers on my desk.

After completing the two file cabinets, I took a seat in my chair and began to attack the desk drawers. I had just opened the top one when the air seemed to change in the office. A feeling that I had finally been able to associate with the presence of a certain individual. "Awful early, aren't you?" I asked with a smile. When I turned towards the window, my eyes widened.

"Sorry to startle you, Commissioner," Robin spoke as he slipped into the room.

I remained silent, still in awe that he had evoked the same feeling in me that his mentor did. "Don't worry. I think I've finally gotten the hang of detecting when you all sneak in here." He paused at the side of my desk and peered over at the paperwork and office supplies that cluttered its surface. I shrugged and offered, "Spring cleaning."

He smirked slightly and patted his utility belt, "That's my project for later. I thought I would drop you a line, we'll be infiltrating the clubs Friday night."

With a sigh, I searched for my calendar and nodded, "Friday. Busy night."

"Best way to do it," he said, "We'll contact you if anything turns up."

He and I had been working together in finding information on the string of Missing Persons in Gotham. There was a Special Crimes Division taskforce but through experience, I found it was a bit faster to work with the help of vigilantes in this town. I found it interesting that Batman had allowed his younger protégés to take on such a challenging case, but then again, it was impossible for him to handle such a grand problem on top of the rest of the city's issues.

As I glanced at my watch, I said, "Well, I best be getting out of here, or I'll never… leave." I looked to the side of my desk and then back at the window that was opened just as far as it had been when I had unlocked it earlier. This time, my face wasn't turned in shock, but a broad smile. I had learned to detect whenever they arrived, but it was still a damned mystery on how they slipped out without a sound.

As much as things had changed, it was nice to see that some things never did.

V

I had just lowered the heat on the sizzling onions, broccoli and sausage when I heard footsteps in the hallway. They grew louder as I evenly spread the contents of the skillet over the bottom of a piecrust I had prepared earlier that morning. When the sounds passed through the kitchen doorway, I had already begun beating the eggs, milk, pepper and salt.

"Good morning Alfred."

I peered over my shoulder briefly before pouring the egg mixture over the ingredients covering the pie crust, "Good morning Master Bruce, a rather early one if I may say so," I added after glancing at the clock: 5:51.

Before I could offer him something to drink, I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he retrieved a clean mug from the cupboard and poured coffee for himself. He then took a seat on one of the four stools that surrounded the island counter and stared at the mug as it cooled.

After setting the quiche into the oven, already preheated to three hundred and fifty degrees, I set the egg timer for twenty-eight minutes and then went about cleaning the skillet and mixing bowls. On the very rare occasion that Master Bruce was unable to sleep in or even at all, he often sought out my company, no matter what the hour. I tended to reflect back on the weeks following the death of his parents where he would rarely be out of my eyesight as I tended to my duties.

I was surprised after cleaning off the dishes and the countertop that he had yet to make a move for his beverage. I offered to make a fresh pot and he shook his head slightly. After glancing at the timer, I spoke, "I'm afraid the quiche has another twenty minutes, sir. Is there something I can get you?"

Another subtle shake.

"Bruce?" I asked softly.

When he looked up at me, I recognized the deep bags under his eyes and the thoughtful, yet worried look on his face. He made contact with my eyes and asked, "Have I been punishing him, Alfred? Pushing him away when I should be drawing him near? Is it too late to…" he sighed and looked back down at the countertop.

I drew a stool out and took a seat myself. Ms. Selina had informed me the night before of their small feud that took place after dinner in town. She had regretted being forward, but at the same time had been pleased to have finally gotten "through his thick skull." Master Bruce had yet to speak a word of it to me, further proving her influence.

After a long moment of silence, I said, "There have been times when Richard has needed to be let alone, to have time to himself to understand his feelings… Just the same as you, sir. However few, there are also instances where he needs comfort, support… sympathy," his eyes locked onto mine, "Just the same as you."

When he didn't reply, I did my best to further explain, "I recall a young man who was once very lost in his existence, uncertain as to whether or not he could live the life he had known for so long… Had there not been support from his loved ones, I fear that he would not have been able to come back and he would have been lost to us forever."

I watched as he blinked twice quickly, no doubt battling a flood of memories from that very traumatic year of his life… The one that had been taken from him. I had no doubt that he did his best to repress those recollections of his recovery, but it was impossible for myself to go through a single day where I did not think back on the uncertainty of if he would ever regain his mind, body and life. Even catching the slightest glance of the faint scar on his brow would unleash the hours spent in the operating room with Leslie, days wondering if he would ever wake up and then the following months that it took for him to learn to walk, read and speak.

All in the past, but also always there in every present moment.

His voice interrupted my thoughts suddenly, "What reason would he have to listen to me, after all this time?"

I rested my hand on his forearm, "You are his father. That should be sufficient."

"That may not be enough this time, Alfred," he sighed.

A sound in the hall caught my attention and I paused before standing, "It is more than enough, Bruce."

The kitchen door opened to reveal Ms. Selina, clad in her husband's robe, appearing to be half-asleep. She scanned the room under half-closed eyes, spotted Master Bruce and then asked, "Bruce? Where have you been?"

He shrugged slightly as she moved next to him and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders.

I went about making myself appear busy while doing my best to study their interactions. She whispered something into his ear and he made no move to respond. As Ms. Kyle stepped back, letting her arm slip off of him, she sighed, "Come upstairs, Bruce, it's too quiet for me to sleep when you're not snoring."

A moment after she had slipped into the hall, he rose as well. When he turned back briefly, mouth open as if to speak, I nodded, "The quiche will hold, sir."

Later, after the egg timer sounded, I went about removing the dish from the oven just as I heard another set of footfalls in the corridor. As the door swung open, I did not see my guest at first, as she was shorter than the island counter. I heard a soft grunt of effort and then saw the very top of the young child's head as she seated herself on the stool "Morning Alfred."

"Why good morning, Miss Mattie."

She rested her elbows on the countertop and planted her small chin into the palms of her hands, her pout in full force. "Is there something amiss?" She arched her brow and I asked, "Is there something wrong, young miss?"

Her tiny incisors nibbled on her lower lip before she replied, "I went to wake Dad and Mom up… But the door wouldn't open."

I went about pouring her a glass of orange juice, "I can assure you that I have seen them both this morning. They did mention about getting a bit more rest however."

She thanked me as I handed the glass to her and then asked, "Alfred, can I have a straw too… Please."

"Certainly," I nodded before retrieving a small plastic straw from a drawer. I watched as she popped it into the glass and took a long sip. Before releasing it, she smiled and showed that the straw tip neatly fitting into a small gap in her front teeth.

"Congratulations are in order, Miss Mattie."

She laughed softly and pushed her glass away, "It was wiggling pretty bad last night, and Dad said it come out soon…"

"Do you still have… the tooth?"

She nodded, "On my dresser so, tonight, I can have it for the Tooth Fairy."

The child beamed as she finished her juice and the slipped off the stool, no doubt going back upstairs to find a way into her parents' bedroom. From wiggling loose teeth to sneaking in to wake her father, Miss Mattie already showed determination beyond her years.

V

"Dad? Mom?" I asked as I pressed my face to the floor in front of their doors. There were no lights on and I could barely hear anything. Before coming to their room, I had checked the time, 7:48, a little early but it was Saturday and I wanted to know what we were going to do.

"Mom?" I asked, slightly louder, adding a soft tap on the door.

Well, if I was going to sit on the floor, I might as well get comfortable.

I skipped back to my room, pulled a blanket and pillow off of my bed as well as my stuffed horse that I slept with. Taffy had been sleeping under the covers and when I moved everything she woke up and decided to follow me. I carefully spread my blanket out in front of their door and set up my horse and then picked Taffy up and set her on my pillow. Then I went back to my room to see what else I could bring. After five trips, I had brought a drawing pad, my bucket of crayons, two of my cat stuffed animals, my make-believe makeup kit, and another pillow for me to sit on.

After pretending to put make up on, I began to draw, doodles at first and then I moved onto draw snowmen. Dad had a bunch of my drawings at his office in frames so everyone could see them. But he kept the best ones at home, just for him.

There was a soft sound from inside the room I paused for a moment to listen. I could hear Dad's voice but I couldn't understand him through the door. I set my crayon down and then laid back on the floor. The carpet was pretty thick so it was hard to see anything under the door, but it was squishy enough for me to stick my fingers under the door. After I did so, I wiggled them a bit to see if it caught their attention.

More soft words from Dad, and then Mom spoke as well.

I pulled my hand out and leaned against the door after sitting up. Were they going to stay in there all day?

Before I could pick my crayon up to finish my drawing, I heard footsteps approach the door and then felt it open from behind me. I let myself fall onto my back and looked up to see Dad staring down at me, "Morning Dad," and then smiled to show off my missing tooth.

He smirked, "It came out."

"Yep, this morning. Didn't hurt at all."

He looked at the blankets I had set up and then back at me, "What's this?"

I replied, still laying down, "We're camping out."

Dad nodded with a slight smile on his face, "Mind if I join?"

After I shook my head, I sat up as he took a seat beside me. When I crawled onto his lap, he kissed the back of my head and then picked up my snowman drawing, "Did you draw this today?"

I nodded and leaned back against his chest, "Yep. Miss Kallie said spring started today, so I thought it would be silly to draw snow."

"Very silly," he murmured. I felt his chest rise and then fall as he sighed, "You know what else is today?"

I shook my head and looked up at his chin.

"It is Dick's twenty-eighth birthday."

"It is?" I asked and he nodded, "Wow, that's really old…"

He laughed silently, "Not that old. So, I was thinking about maybe taking a trip to Bludhaven, to take him out to lunch for his birthday."

I bounced on his lap, "Can I come?"

He kissed my head, "Yep. It will be just you and me."

"Mom's not coming?"

"No," he answered, "She has to go up to the Preserve for a while." When I didn't answer, I felt his fingers on my shoulder just before they reached to tickle my neck, "So what do you think?"

I laughed loudly and squirmed away from him, "Daddy…"

As he went up onto his hands and knees to follow me, I saw him wince for a second, and when he caught me looking, he smiled again. Odd…

"What is going on out here?" Mom's voice asked. We both looked up to see her standing at the door wrapped up in a robe. I told her I had been camping out in front of their door and when she looked at Dad he nodded. She shook her head, "Well then, since you two are already on the floor, why don't you pick everything up so we can have breakfast?"

What had taken me five trips of carrying things, Dad carried in one arm and me in the other. He didn't carry me around all that much but when he did, I loved every second of it. He was the strongest, tallest Dad in the world.

I sat next to him at the breakfast table and instead of reading his paper like he usually did, he asked me about school and my friends. Usually Mom was the one who asked me questions about stuff like that, where Dad would ask about schoolwork and what I was learning. Aside from that, breakfast was nearly silent, Mom and Dad not saying a word to one another. Sometimes they did that, kind of ignored each other. But I did it with my friends at school so I guess it was kind of the same thing.

As Dad left to get things ready to go see Dick, Mom took me upstairs to wash up and change. I packed my backpack with a few books, reading and coloring, and a few small toys to take with me. It seemed like it took forever to get where Dick lived so I always tried to bring something to do along with me. I also packed the CD Tim made me with a whole bunch of Disney movie songs on it. Hopefully Dad would play it for me on the way.

I kissed Mom and Alfred good-bye before following Dad out into the garage. He helped me into the back of the car, buckled me in and before he shut my door, I handed him the CD and pouted, "Can we listen to this please?"

He nodded and took it from me.

We listened to music for most of the trip as Dad watched the road out in front of him. I didn't mind though, because it wouldn't be long before I was with Dick, and I was sure he would tell me his silly Knock-Knock jokes and tickle me until I cried.

That's what big brothers were for.

V

"What in the…?" I asked as I looked down at myself. Bright red tunic, waist length satin yellow cape, pixie boots and a pair of green Speedo-esque underwear.

Before I could think any further as to why I was sporting a uniform I hadn't worn since I was a teenager, I realized I was in the passenger seat of the Bat-mobile, one of the earlier models with an open top and gaudy red piping. When I looked to my left, I saw Batman was holding a red telephone in my direction, his face oddly at ease. He nodded at me and I took a hold of the phone.

Before I could think, I spat out, "Operator, please get me the Pentagon in Washington, the Navy Department," and not a second later, Batman took the phone from me. Without him noticing, I pressed the speakerphone button so that I could have some hope as to figuring out what the hell was going on and why I was just asking for the Pentagon.

A soft female voice answered, "Admiral Fangschlieer's office."

"Hello, Batman speaking."

"Oh, hello!" then a mumbled voice in the background that she answered with, "Batman."

"Hello, Batman. Ahoy!" the Admiral's suddenly voice boomed, "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Admiral. A routine question. Have you recently sold any war surplus submarines, and if so to whom?" Batman asked.

"Well, just a moment, I'll have to look that up," followed by a high-pitched whistled rendition of "Anchors Away." I rolled my eyes just as the Admiral continued, "Answer affirmative, Batman. We disposed of a war surplus submarine last Friday. A pre-atomic model to some chap named P. N. Guinn."

Batman repeated the name and continued, "Did this P. N Guinn leave an address."

"Just a post office box number. Would you like it?"

"No thank you, Admiral. You've been very helpful."

"Avast and belay, Batman, your tone sounds rather grim. We haven't done anything foolish, have we?"

"Disposing a pre-atomic submarines to persons who don't even leave their full addresses... Good day, Admiral!" Batman said before hanging up pointedly. He looked at me briefly before announcing, "With the Penguin involved, there's only one place to go. Sea Breeze Sound."

"The day spa?" I asked, my voice oddly pre-pubescent.

He nodded and said far too excitedly, "Let's go!" before hitting the accelerator.

It wasn't long before we were walking into the front door of the Sea Breeze Sound Day Spa, one of Cobblepot's legitimate businesses that used as a cover. Young men and women alike were dressed in loudly colored shirts that were nowhere near matching the hue of their pants. It was like the sixties all over again…

A pair of thick-chested thugs in black pants and shirts approached us holding a small stack of folded white towels. Their names blazoned in white over their pectorals: Tern and Gull. Unbelievable.

To my utter horror, Batman paused before them, hands on his hips and said, "Greetings." The thugs glared back silently for a minute before Batman continued, "We wish to have a booth, please."

The thugs looked at one another before giving each of us a towel and leading us to one of many individual sauna rooms. As Batman wrapped the towel around his waist I asked, "What are you doing?"

He spoke in a quiet voice, his words unevenly spaced for emphasis, "Robin… we need not draw attention… to ourselves," he pointed to the towel in my hand, "And it would be wise… to fit in, chum… As a clever disguise is the key… to solving many crimes."

After reluctantly donning the towel, and noting as several passing girls pointed and laughed at me, I followed Batman down the hall, only to realize the thugs had disappeared. I was about to tell him that they had gone to report to the Penguin when a razor blade tipped umbrella flew by me, nearly putting a tear into my gaudy cape.

"He's making an escape, Batman," I called out as I ducked into a corridor, ripping my towel off.

"That he is… Quickly, outside, we haven't a moment to lose," Batman took his towel off as well and darted down the corridor, running like a… not like a six foot tall man.

Once out on the sidewalk, the whirring of a helicopter could be heard over the Penguin's noticeable quacks. We both looked up at the same time, six stories, an easy climb on the fire escape that was further down. I was about to recommend it when I saw Batman throw a line up to the rooftop.

"Up you go, chum," he said while handing the line to me. There was no retractor gun or anything, just a thin white cord. How was that going to help me get up to the roof?

I held the rope in both hands, one in front of the other, and then placed my feet on the wall, taking slow, sure steps on the surface. Batman followed on the same line, and we freakishly moved synchronously up the wall. I suddenly feared the line would give and we would be guano all over the street below.

That was the least of my concerns.

The window to our right suddenly popped open, nearly causing me to lose my hold on the rope. And the second I regained it, I nearly let it go again when I saw two familiar heads peer out at us: David Letterman and Paul Schaffer.

"Greetings, citizens," Batman paused.

"I'll be… Batman and Robin…" Letterman grinned, ear-to-ear, "It was my hopes that I would run into the two of you while I was in town."

"How so, Mr. Letterman?" Batman asked in response.

The late night host looked back at the dark-glasses sporting Schaffer before explaining, "Well, I was wondering if you would be interested in making an appearance on my program."

As he went about regretfully informing Letterman that he was a civil servant with no interest in fame, I cleared my throat and resumed climbing. Batman bid farewell to his admirers with a quirky smile before he began climbing once more. The very second we reached the rooftop, a row of thugs stood just in front of the helicopter, each of them a hair smaller than Bane. The Penguin's stout form was just the left of the row of goons, dressed in coat tails and a purple hat, called out at the sight of us, "Make them into bird feed!"

All four members of his crew shouted in unison, "Yo, ho, ho sir!" before leaping at us, punching and kicking and doing their best to obey their boss. While Batman clobbered two of them, the remaining pair knocked to me the ground. Loud pounding noises filled my ears and I called out for help….

"AGH!" I cried out, suddenly sitting up in bed. The knocking noises were still echoing in my ears as I tried to shift out of my dream and into my somewhat wakeful state, "That's the last time I'm having Thai food before going to bed…"

I looked at the bedside clock to see it was a little before noon before running a hand through my hair. When I pulled it back, my hair stood on end, a result of showering before going to bed. Having only two towels in the entire the apartment, my showering schedule ended up being fairly sporadic.

"What the hell?" I muttered as the knocking grew to pounding. I climbed out of bed and put a shirt on as I shuffled out towards the door, "Hang on…" I paused and peered through the peephole.

Bruce stared back at me, looking impatient, but then again he usually did.

"Holy nightmare," I muttered as I reached over to pinch the skin on my arm.

No, even worse. This was real.

V

I listened as the locks shifted from the other side of the door and then watched as Dick pulled it back, opening it halfway. He looked fresh out of bed, rumpled flannel pants, stained tee shirt and hair that was defying gravity.

"Hello, Dick."

"Uh, hi, Bruce."

Before I could say anything else, Mattie stepped out from behind me and called out his name loudly as she ran at him. He swiftly picked her up and hugged her, "Hey munchkin."

Mattie's arms locked around his neck, "Happy Birthday, Dick!" before kissing his stubble covered cheek.

The shocked look on his face made me wonder if he had forgotten what day it was. He smiled and thanked her before stepping back, "Come on in, Bruce."

From the hall, with Dick's body in the doorway, the place hadn't looked that bad. After I passed through and he shut the door, realized that maybe we should have talked out in the hallway.

The den I remembered was long gone, buried under piles newspapers, boxes of files and dirty laundry. Where there were usually end tables at the arms of the couches, upside down milk crates rested, also buried alive. The carpet, once blue, had taken on a dark grainy appearance in spots where there wasn't items on the floor. As I took a step into the room, I kicked a sock aside and frowned to see the difference in color.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked as he set Mattie down. When I looked at him blankly he continued, "I have water, Coke, maybe some juice."

I glanced at his kitchen and swallowed hard, "Coke," I said, thinking it was at least in a sealed container. Mattie followed him as he walked back to the open kitchen and I quickly followed her just in case some monster dust bunny leapt out from under his furniture. She climbed up on a surprisingly empty stool and swung her legs back and forth, a smile plastered on her face. Somehow, her older sibling, no matter what he did, had the ability to captivate her. Similar as to how Tim looked up to Dick, as well. I never understood it completely…

As Dick opened the door to the refrigerator, my eyes caught sight of a small, graying box of Chinese takeout food. They widened as I read the label to a restaurant that had been closed for nearly a year. When he turned and handed me the can, I looked up at him and said, "Thanks." Mattie asked for water and I shuddered at the thought of her drinking out of a glass. Thankfully, he pulled out a bottle of spring water and opened it for her.

A moment of silence passed before Dick asked, "So, what's up?"

I paused before saying, "I thought we could go out to lunch."

"Why?" he replied.

Mattie laughed, "It's your birthday, silly."

He reached over and poked her side, "I know that, goofy…" he leaned against the countertop and looked down at himself, "Well, you give me fifteen minutes to make me look like a human and I can do lunch."

While Dick changed, shaved and washed up, I had Mattie remain on the stool while I looked around his apartment a bit. The newspapers that had been in the living room had been copies of the Bludhaven Bugle, most of them from the last two weeks with front-page stories on the shootout. The top newspaper boldly stated that the awards ceremony was going on as planned the next afternoon on the steps of the courthouse. Several Medals of Valor were to be handed out in addition to certificates of appreciation and commendation to all of the officers involved in the event.

And it also displayed a picture that been haunting me for weeks.

"Ready?" I heard his voice as he came down the hall. He had changed into a pair of dark jeans and a slate blue V-neck sweater over a blue and white striped button down shirt. He grabbed a wallet off of a milk crate that towered with manila folders and then reached for his leather coat that had been resting on the back of a large ceramic fiure of a white greyhound that I hadn't even noticed. I called Mattie's name and when she didn't come I walked towards the kitchen.

"Mattie?"

Before panic could set in, I heard her voice from behind me, "I'm right here, Dad."

I took her hand and crossed the room again, "Just making sure…"

I had parked in front of the apartment and helped Mattie in as Dick took the passenger seat. As I stared at the back of his head while walking around the back of the car, I realized that we had shared a dozen words since Christmas, and not many more since Thanksgiving. This could be an interesting lunch, I thought to myself.

It wasn't.

We barely spoke to one another, let alone looked at each other. He spoke with Mattie a great deal and kept the conversation light and entertaining for her. I then realized what he was doing, putting off the harder topics until later and hopefully out of her hearing range.

Not four blocks from the restaurant, I knew of a small park that was fairly well kept and free from troublesome loiterers. A rare commodity in Bludhaven. As we stepped out the front door, I suggested we walk for a while and when I mentioned the park, Mattie was ecstatic. She bee-lined it to the swings as Dick and I took a seat on a bench nearby. Another small boy was also swinging and I could hear her talking to him.

Not even a teenager and she was already after boys…

"So what are you really here for Bruce?" he asked suddenly.

I crossed my legs and watched as Mattie began to swing. I didn't have an answer for him. The entire drive over I had been pondering on what I would say to him, how I would go about things. Hell, over the last week, as I'd pooled over past cases as an excuse to keep myself busy, I had been thinking about it. Perhaps too much…

"I want to… apologize for not…" I took a deep breath before continuing, "I remember every criminal I've ever put on Death Row. The one that stands out though… 'Slasher' Samuels… I had gone the extra mile to bring him in…"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed he had turned his head towards me, a shocked look on his face. Instead of looking at him, I studied the calluses on my palms, "It had been the evidence that I had found that allowed the DA to pin him with first-degree murder with aggravated circumstances… Without it, he would have been lucky to get away with second-degree murder charges. When I had found him and turned him over to the police, I knew what his fate would be… Four months before I married Selina and I was practically sentencing this man to his death…"

We watched Mattie swing back and forth for a good four minutes, neither of us making a shift to speak next. For once, I made the first move. I looked over at him and said, "That's why I have no right to criticize your actions. To judge what you did or even your career as being wrong…"

I stood and called over to Mattie. She stopped swinging, hopped off and said good-bye to her new friend before skipping towards me. Before she arrived, I continued, "When you get a chance, Alfred would like to have you up to the Manor so he can feed you something."

Mattie paused next to me and smiled before moving over to Dick, who was still sitting on the bench. She climbed up next to him and leaned against his arm. It took him a moment to realize she was there but when he did, Dick instantly relaxed and put an arm around her shoulders. She giggled before kissing his cheek, "Happy Birthday, Dick."

Dick smirked, "So are you my present?"

She shook her head and reached into her pocket. Her tiny hand pulled out a small black and blue friendship bracelet, "Mom helped me make it. She said they were your favorite colors."

He took it from her and put it on, "They sure are…" I watched on as he looked down at her, "Listen, kiddo, I'm sorry I didn't make it to your birthday party…"

She shrugged, "It's ok. You were working."

Dick touched her arm and continued, "That's no excuse. Listen, how about we go out sometime, just you and me, we can celebrate both of our birthdays. What do you think?"

She leapt at him as she at his apartment, "Yeah!"

"All right, I'll get it all figured out… But you better get going with your dad."

Mattie smiled when she looked at me and then back at Dick, "He's your dad too."

Dick stood with her in his arms and kissed her cheek. He then glanced at me and nodded, "That he is."

V

I waited forty minutes after he returned from patrols before I went to thank him.

A little after eight-thirty that evening, Barbara had called me. I had just put Mattie to bed, after she had told me for the millionth time that Dick was going to take her out to have a double-birthday outing. When I answered, Barbara's voice was quieter than usual, as if she was trying not to be heard. I asked why she was whispering and she told me that she didn't want to wake Dick up.

Apparently, not even two hours after having lunch with Bruce, Dick had showed up at her doorstep with an overnight bag and smirk on his face. He had stepped through the door, picked her up out of her chair and held her for a good ten minutes. She said he was laughing so hard that she had been scared he would drop her. They ordered in dinner, had a picnic in the den and talked for hours. She had said, "It's just like old times…"

Well, if they could make up, I suppose we could.

He had been sitting in that throne of a chair in front of the computer, cowl pulled back and typing up a storm on the keyboard. I padded up in his loafers and his robe, making my presence loud and clear. He didn't even hesitate.

I sat on the arm of the chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulders and waited for him to respond. When he didn't, I leaned over and rested my head on his. Still nothing. "Bruce?"

Not even a grunt.

I looked up at the screen and watched as the words he typed showed up on the screen. Eighty-five words per minute with a near perfect accuracy. That was when he was left alone. I slipped off of the chair and leaned over the back of it, my hands finding the tension in his shoulders that surfaced when he typed in his logs after patrols. I smirked when he had to hit the Backspace button to fix three typos in one paragraph. My hands then slipped over his collarbones and rested on his chest gently. When I traced the Bat emblem, he had to fix two typos in one sentence.

As I drew my hands back, his head turned slightly, "That's my robe."

"What are you, the world's greatest detective?" I waited for him to respond and when he didn't, I continued, "But from what I hear, you were the world's greatest dad today. Ought to get you the mug-."

"What are you talking about?" he asked while trying to hide his intrigue.

I informed him about Dick coming to stay with Barbara and he grunted softly. I then said, "Whatever you did, whatever you told him…" I paused and kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

When I stood and began to walk away, I heard him stand, "That's it?"

"Yep," I said, still walking away from him.

The soles of his boots clanked loudly on the stone floor as he quickly moved towards the costume vault. I had just reached the stairs when I heard him jogging after me. As I took the first step, he was at my side, dressed in a pair of black shorts and a turtleneck long-sleeved shirt.

As we ascended the stairs, he looked down at my feet, "Mine?"

I nodded and hooked my arm with his, "Yes, dear."

After we passed through the clock entrance, I waited as he locked the entryway and watched him take a quick step to the side. He took a sharp breath before turning back to face me. I hid my concern with a half-smile and reached for his hand. On the way upstairs, we stopped to check in on Mattie in her room. Bruce adjusted her blankets a bit and brushed back a strand of hair that had slipped over her face as I watched from the doorway.

"Ready?" I asked softly.

Bruce nodded and came towards me. When he was an arm's length away, he moved down suddenly, putting one arm behind my knees and the other behind my shoulders. I kept from calling out in shock by biting the tip of my tongue. He lifted me effortlessly and began walking down the hall towards the bedroom doors. When at a safe distance from my daughter's room, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taking back my robe and loafers."

Logical.

Once through the doors, he set me on the bed before walking into the bathroom. After partially shutting the door, he flicked the light on and I heard him open the medicine cabinet. Not fifteen seconds later, he shut the light off and came out.

"You okay?"

He shrugged slightly, "Headache."

"Must be all that being nice. Tends to get overwhelming when you don't practice it on a regular basis."

"Funny," he said quietly before sitting on the bed next to me.

I reached over and set my hand on the back of his neck, guiding his head to face me. He smirked slightly as my nails traced the cropped edge of his haircut. I bit my lower lip, "You love me a lot, right?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Because… of this…" I tugged suddenly, removing the long gray hair on the back of his neck. It had been bugging the hell out of me for nearly two months.

His hand flew up to his neck as he asked, "What was that for?"

"Mutual grooming…" I shrugged as I sank back against the pillows, "It's a common sign of affection in animals."

His scowl quickly turned into a smile, "Oh really?" he asked as he moved towards me.

"Yes, really," I answered as he settled above me, bearing his weight on his legs on either side of mine.

With his lips a mere inch from my ear, he whispered, "What kind of animals?"

I paused before answering, "Pin-headed apes for the most part."

V

Holy Two Updates in One Week, Batman!


	14. One And Only: XIV

Title: One And Only: XIV

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: Who kisses and tells? Oh, Batgirl and Robin do ;) Brief references made to Robin: Year One

V

"I am freezing," Trey muttered without moving his lips. Which was a good idea because getting caught chatting while the Governor was giving a speech on national television was not too smooth of a move.

He sat to my right, barely able to contain his shivering. When we had first arrived, he told me he was actually wearing a full set of long johns underneath his dress clothes. He seemed a bit nervous and even voiced his fear that he was going to trip on his own feet when they called his name.

And shortly after that, I asked to see his new badge.

As a result of how he handled himself in the shootout, Brass had finally moved him up to D-I. Whether or not he stayed in Homicide or answered his calling for better things in life was unknown to both of us. I hadn't seen him since that day, although he had called and left a dozen messages on my machine and I was pretty sure had come to my place and knocked on my door at least three times. He had taken a week off of work, according to one of his messages, but was making sure my desk stayed clear of donut boxes until I got back.

I had taken my forced time off as self-assigned exile. Not that my place was clean to begin with, I watched it deteriorate as I left empty takeout cartons where they fell and dirty clothes in various piles. At one point, I had mused that Alfred would stroke out if he saw how far my housekeeping skills had faltered. It didn't take long though before my mind was too preoccupied to think of Alfred's pallor turning white at my dirty apartment. Where bouts of nightmares replaced happier images…

I spent most of my time sleeping. Watching soap operas in the afternoon, primetime sitcoms at night and then sleeping through the gap in between. I ate when I found the energy to order food and walk to the door to pay the deliveryman. I drank water out of a gallon jug and tried to remember to at least brush my teeth on a somewhat regular basis. All the while trying to figure out how in the hell I could have shot that man…

Thirty-nine officers that had taken action during the shootout on February 28th were seated on the stage that was set up in front of the County Courthouse steps. In addition, the city commissioner, mayor as well as the DA were there, and of course the Governor. He stood at the microphone-clad podium, talking about bravery and loyalty and other nonsense. All I knew was that I was freezing my ass off.

I reasoned that the audience must have been warmer, as they huddled closely, moved from one foot to another and wrapped their scarves tighter about their necks. The flashes from the cameras had grown to be annoying but I had not brought my sunglasses. Because there sure wasn't any sun. I had searched the faces of the crowd, hoping to find a familiar one and was starting to get discouraged. Barbara had promised to come but she didn't know about the others.

The officers and audience alike had bore witness as every officer received a letter of commendation from the commissioner and shook hands with the Governor. Far too many limped up or bore slings that were startling white against their dress uniforms. One officer was not in attendance, as he was still on bed rest following the removal of his spleen from complications of his injuries.

"Oh, here it comes…" said a nameless young officer to my left as he elbowed me slightly.

The Governor's bold voice bore down on the massive audience that had collected in front of us, "Ladies and gentleman, it is not only an honor, but a great personal pleasure to present the Medal of Valor to two heroic men, who in the face of mortal danger, stepped forward and took action in order to save the people of Bludhaven. Detective First Class, Trey Armand Richardson."

Trey stood as the audience applauded loudly. He walked smoothly to the podium, without tripping, as the Governor continued, "Detective Richardson was responsible for bringing down the surviving suspect, using superior marksmanship amidst the most dangerous gun fight this city has ever seen. On behalf of a grateful city," he paused as he placed the medal over Trey's bowed head, "I present to you the Medal of Valor."

As the audience clapped louder, I looked out and caught a glance of red. I smiled to see Barbara's face under a red hat as she moved up to the front of the group. Behind her, I saw Cassandra and Tim, waving slightly and smiling when I winked back. Alfred and Leslie stood to their left both looking like the proud grandparents they were. As Trey sat down, I heard "And now, Detective Second Class, Richard John Grayson."

Trey touched my shoulder, "You're next."

I stood, smoothed out my coat and walked up, doing my best to block out the clapping as I searched the faces of my family… Where were they? Again, I looked down the row that had formed in the front: Barbara, Tim, Cass, Leslie, Alfred… Did they not come?

"As the commanding officer for a majority of the event, the first to call it into dispatch, and to have personally pursued the second suspect, using the final resort of an officer in apprehension…" the words faded when I saw Bruce's face as he stood with an arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders. Mattie was standing next to him, the biggest smile in the world on her face. If only she knew why I was up there…

I did my best to contain my smile as I stood stoically next to the Governor at the podium. As I bowed my head slightly and was decorated for my actions, I looked over at Bruce out of the corner of my eye. I still could not believe he came to Bludhaven to apologize. I had joked with Babs that it had been the best birthday gift he had ever given me, but had then added that it wouldn't have hurt any if he had added a Jaguar into the mix.

Since I was still on leave, I had decided to move in with her for the time being. Part of it was that I wanted to get out of the city for a while, in order to figure my life out. A bigger part was that I missed her. Following the ceremony, we had planned on heading to my place to pack up a few things, and even though I had warned her about the conditions, she said she could handle it.

Right…

The commissioner finished the ceremony with a brief speech and the announcement of some fund they had started for those wishing to make donations to injured officers. No doubt a fat check from Wayne Corp was on the way. He then closed, thanking those who had attended in light of the "un-Spring weather." Brilliant…

As we filed off the stage down a set of narrow steps, most of the officers gathered towards the courthouse, smoking, laughing at each others' dress uniforms and bitching about the weather. As much as I would have loved to join them, I had my own group to seek out.

"Oh, Dick, look at you, dear," I heard Leslie long before I saw her. She was taking quick steps towards me, making her way through the congealed crowd. I hadn't seen her since Christmas, which was far too long. The second she was in an arm's reach, she wrapped her slender arms around my neck and pulled me down into one of her never-ending hugs.

"Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Dick," she smiled as she pulled away slightly. As she looked up at me, I noticed her eyes were a bit glassier than usual, but as bright and clear as always.

Alfred, who had paused to her side, looked over my uniform, "Dashing to the last, Master Dick."

"Yeah, you looked good, except that booger that's frozen to your nose," Tim said stoically as he approached me, Cass right at his side. Over the last three years, I had watched them not only grow older but closer as well, one small baby step at a time. Maybe by the time they were thirty they would have things figured out. Then again who was I to say anything?

"Thanks pal," I smirked before reaching out and smacking the back of his head. I laughed when he blocked it smoothly and jabbed me in the armpit. I couldn't wait to pin his ass into the mats…

Before I could retaliate, I heard the soft angelic giggle that only a giddy six-year-old could make. I knelt, despite the snow on the ground and prepared myself for her charge, "Dick! I saw you, I saw you, Dick!"

"I would hope so, kiddo," I managed as she collided with me, arms quickly snaring my neck. When I stood, I lifted her up and managed to pull one of her arms away from my throat.

"There were a lot of people watching you… Were you scared?"

"Nah, I knew you were out here. And besides," I pulled my sleeve back, revealing my bracelet, "I have this."

Mattie grinned and hugged me tighter.

"Where's the parental units?" I asked.

Tim looked over his shoulder, "They were right behind us…" he looked over at Cass and as she shrugged, "Hunh, maybe they went back to the car."

Mattie said, "They did. Dad forgot something."

"Oh, what did he forget?"

She shrugged, "I dunno."

Still carrying my little sister, I followed the group away from the courthouse and the stage towards the small community parking lot where Tim had pointed out his, Barbara's and Bruce's cars. I spotted Bruce leaning against the Beemer while Selina stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder, talking to him. He nodded and looked down at her briefly before leaning over and kissing her cheek. Ever the romantic, I paused and whistled at them loudly, causing both of them to jump and our small group to erupt into laughter.

Ah, it was good to be back…

V

"We should have called a haz mat crew," I sighed, furiously rubbing hand sanitizer lotion all over my arms, face and exposed skin.

Dick sighed as he took the driver's seat of the Hummer, "It wasn't that bad…" I shot him an icy glare, "Ok, it was that bad," he added.

We had spent the entire day been cleaning out his apartment, making it livable and finding the necessities he would need to stay with me in Gotham for the time being. As an end result, we had packed up my car as well as Tim's Honda. He and Cass had bailed out an hour before we had, while I had been sorting recyclables in the kitchen. Wimps.

We had been fairly successful in finding his home. Dick, who despised basic house chores, was vacuuming, dusting, sweeping, packing and making more trips to the basement dumpster more than he had in his entire life. I had caught him trying to pay Alfred to stay and I had to resist whipping out my hidden Escrima stick and beating him with it.

Exhausted, filthy and wanting nothing more than a hot bath, we packed up what was left and headed for Gotham. Not ten minutes after we had left Bludhaven, he reached over for my hand and squeezed it gently, "I love… this car."

I laughed quietly before letting his hand go, "So what do you want for dinner?"

He shrugged before yawning, "Too sleepy to eat."

"That's a first. It's only six-thirty."

"Well, I'm used to sitting on my ass all day, not running up and down the stairs lugging boxes of trash around." We were quiet for another ten minutes before Dick said, "So… What's with Cass and Tim?"

I shrugged, "Not sure. They've been playing off of each other for a while now… Who knows if they'll ever do anything about it."

"Well, there is that bizarre fate that has Batgirls and Robins falling in love…"

After I rolled my eyes at him, I commented, "Sure thing. You know you're lucky I took your scrawny butt back."

"Really? My butt is scrawny?"

"All that sitting," I joked.

When we arrived at the Clocktower, I spotted Tim's car out front but no sight of Bruce's. He had mentioned that he would help move things if necessary, but I knew that was more Selina's doing than him volunteering. We may have become a closer family over the years but he was still uncomfortable being too friendly. Might expose his soft underbelly.

Dick pulled into the underground garage and parked near the elevator. After helping me get situated in my chair, I went to unlock the elevator car as he began to unload his things. As the doors opened, I called out, there's a dolly in that utility closet on the right."

"Kay," he answered, "Why don't you go up and see about maybe ordering dinner, I can unload this."

"By yourself?"

He peered out at me from behind the Hummer, "Uh, send down Timmy, he's a strong young lad."

When I reached my apartment, I was amazed to see that the boxes and suitcases that Tim had brought up had actually been neatly stacked in the foyer instead of being tossed around haphazardly. I called out Cass's name and heard her voice, "In here."

I found her and Tim in her room staring at piles of clothes that were spread out on her bed. They were doing their first undercover op that night and were more concerned about the clothes than the actual work. I was actually glad to see that Bruce had given them more input and involvement on this case. Not only did it give them a challenge, it was keeping them out of my hair for the most part.

"Tim, Dick's downstairs, he wants you to help him unload the car."

He nodded and then looked at Cass quickly before saying, "Back in a few."

She watched him leave before returning to the clothes. After picking up a black leather coat and holding it up against her torso, she turned to me and asked, "What do you think?"

"Tres chic."

Cass set the coat down and rummaged through a pike of blouses, "We figured it was good to have a few outfits. Change them every couple of clubs."

I nodded and approached her bed. I picked up a slate blue silk tank top and shimmied it under the soft lighting of her room, "Nice."

We managed to put our minds together to pick out a few outfits that were stylish but not too horrible. She insisted on including a short jean skirt that was barely as big as a handkerchief. We had never truly been on the level when it came to her clothes. Our styles and upbringings had been so completely different that I doubted we ever would, either.

"Barbara, can I ask you something?"

I nodded as I eyed a pair of tall leather boots with five inches heels.

"When you… Who was… Your…?" she paused a let out a long breath.

When I looked up at her, I saw that her eyes were unusually jumpy. There were very few things that made her nervous, and I knew one thing that certainly did: Timothy Drake. To put her at ease, I had told her on several occasions how Dick and I had been when we first toyed with the idea of the relationship. In doing so I had hoped to spurn her interest and to take the first step in seeking out Tim.

Perhaps it had worked…

"You can tell me anything, Cass. You know that."

When she had regained her composure, she said, "I kissed Tim."

I did my best not to let my smile get out of hand as I said, "When was this?"

She sat on the edge of the bed and answered, "The other night. It wasn't…" she shrugged, "It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"It never is, Cass," I moved closer and put my hand on her knee.

After taking a bite at her lower lip, she continued, "We were sitting in the kitchen, he brought pizza… Just talking about the case… The undercover… I stood and… Just kissed him. It was just like on The OC…"

I smirked, thinking about her fascination with the California based hit show. She loved watching the changes of moods and body language on all of the characters as the plots twisted and turned for the worse. "What did he do?"

She rolled her eyes, "Sat on the stool. I thought I scared him… But then, I left to get suited up… He came into my room after a while…"

"And?" I asked.

Another shrug, "We were just kidding around… I thought he was trying to brush it off, you know… But then he kissed me… And… It's weird because it… How we are… Hasn't felt different… Like I thought it would."

"What does it feel like?"

"It feels… Right. Was that how it was, with you and him?" she tilted her head to the door.

After a sigh, I said, "Sort of. It was more like he was annoying the hell out of me so I shut him up with a kiss."

"Did it work?"

I laughed, "He didn't talk to me for a week."

V

"How long are you planning on staying?" I asked as Dick unloaded the third hang-up bag from the back of Barbara's car.

We were in the basement of the Clocktower, nearly finished unpacking his suitcases and various other belongings. I was absolutely starving, and when my stomach snarled, Dick had smiled and had said that dinner was on him.

"Well," he closed the trunk, "Not really sure. I had a chat with my supervisor before the ceremony this morning… He said I was free to come back whenever I was ready… but not to feel rushed."

I nodded, "Right. Wish I could take school off…"

"What's your major this month?" I glared at him and he chuckled, "Sorry, man."

"No, it's just… It's frustrating, you know, sitting through stupid classes that don't have a prayer of challenging me when I could…"

"Be someplace other than GSU. Trust me, Hudson wasn't much better."

"It's not like I don't want to be here, in Gotham… I guess I just, I don't know. I have no clue what I want out of life. I should be graduating in May but I'm behind from switching majors. My father's ready to wring my neck for that alone. And then this case… And Cass…"

His brow rose slightly, "Cass? What about her?"

I had yet to tell anyone about what had taken place between Cass and I, not sure how public to make our awkward relationship let alone that I wasn't even quite sure about things myself. As I hefted a tote bag up off of the ground, I figured Dick was about as safe as anyone to tell.

"I kissed Cass."

Dick paused before asking, "Slip her tongue?" I looked over at him and nodded. He nodded as well, "Cool."

As we made our final trip upstairs in the elevator, I felt remarkably at ease standing beside him. We had already scheduled a "meeting" to beat each other up for the next week and I couldn't wait to try out a few things on him. He had been the first to admit how out of shape he was and that he was already thinking on a regimen to get back up to speed. I had noticed, but felt it wasn't my place to say. I also wanted to ask when was the last time he had suited up but that also wasn't for me to ask…

As we stepped into the foyer, we heard Cass's voice, "Well excuse me for not thinking Old Navy is the ultimate shopping experience."

We walked into the den to see Barbara and Cass in the midst of what I guess would be arguing. I was about to ask what was going on when my jaw dropped and refused to move.

Cass was dressed in a jean skirt that barely covered the essentials. Her long, toned legs ended in a pair of knee high leather boots that must have been painted on. For a top, sort of, she wore a long-sleeved chiffon top made of a shimmering blue material that came up and tied behind her neck. With a low cut exposing her shoulders and collarbone and an exposed midriff, it was a task to pay attention to their words.

"Well, I'm surprised your Batgirl suit doesn't resemble Huntress' in all its revealing glory," Barbara stated far too eloquently.

Cass retorted, "At least I don't assign number codes to my clothes so I can calculate how to coordinate my outfits."

Barbara scowled in return "It's a good thing you're going undercover to a place where the girls all listen to Britney Spears and Christina Agueilera… you're lack of taste will fit right in."

Dick and I looked at each other briefly before Cass shot back, "Well if we ever have to infiltrate the Amish, I'll know where to get some outfits."

"Are you suggesting my fashion sense reflects the eighteenth century?"

"If the dull sensible shoe fits…"

Dick stepped forward suddenly, "All right, what's going on here?"

Babs glanced at him before pointing sternly at Cass, "She's supposed to fit in with girls that go to clubs, not girls that stand on corners."

Cass took a sudden step forward and I instinctively moved to Dick's side to add another barrier between Cass and Barbara. After another look over her new outfit, of which I didn't see much wrong with, I glanced over at Dick to see what his next move was.

He spoke softly to Barbara, "Well, Babs, the girls dress a little different now a days, a little mor-."

"Now a days?" Barbara interrupted. She quickly spun around and headed for the kitchen, growling to herself incoherently. Cass stomped off as well, leaving Dick and I standing alone in the living room.

"Smooth move," I commented.

He sighed, "Yeah. I guess I'll be sleeping on the couch…" he said as he collapsed onto the sofa. After I sat next to him, he began laughing quietly to himself. When I asked what was so funny, he explained, "I should have let them keep fighting… That was hot."

Thinking on how Bruce would have never found a fight between Batgirl and Oracle as being remotely hot, I smirked, "Glad to have you back, man."

V

Saturday morning. I could have slept in until noon if I had wanted to, but I was up at six-thirty, craving a nice cup of coffee.

I spent most of the morning pretending to be productive. I talked to Barbara over breakfast, read newspapers that I hadn't gotten to that week and had even showered and shaved. But by ten in the morning the house was clean I was out of things to do around the house and felt adventurous. After filling up on gas at the station a block from my front door, I hit the road for a morning of nothing. For years, every morning before driving into headquarters, Sarah and I would get our morning coffees there… A long time ago.

As if on autopilot, I found myself cruising away from the city and towards the more rural boroughs. Namely Bristol. Bruce always offered brunches at the Manor, and yet I always seemed to decline them. We had spent more and more time apart recently, not really avoiding one another but simply not having time. Even at night, by the time he toured the city, I was on my way home to bed. As he drove back to the Cave, my alarm clock was buzzing and I was getting up for my morning walk.

So very different.

So very much the same.

Perhaps a good omelet would be nice…

Even though I had been told countless times that it was unnecessary, I walked to the front door of Wayne Manor and rang the bell after parking to the side of the house. The door pulled back a minute later to reveal Selina, dressed casually but doing nothing to hide her stunning form, "Jim," she beamed, "Come on in."

As I passed by and removed my coat, I thought back on how when I had first heard Selina's name it had been in such a negative context. And yet, despite all that she had done, she was not made up of what criminals were. She had done her deeds in light of injustices, not solely based on her personal greed. Perhaps that was what had made her and Bruce so perfect for one another…

"Thought I'd take you up on that rain check for brunch," I said, "Hope I'm not intruding."

"Never. Mattie and I were actually just working on something to eat. Alfred's in town running some errands."

I followed her to the kitchen in near silence before asking, "Is Bruce around?"

"Downstairs," she said, her tone shifting slightly. "He's been down there for a while, not sure what he's up to…" If there had been any concern in her, she was hiding it well. We walked into the kitchen to the soft wafting odors of fresh blueberry muffins and bacon. Mattie was sitting on a stool at the island counter, smiling to herself as she looked down at a newspaper. I spotted a few familiar faces on it before realizing it was the comics page.

"Hey, Mattie, look who's here," her mother announced.

She looked up after a second and smiled, "Uncle Jim."

"Hi there. What are you reading?" I asked as I approached her.

She pointed to one of the comics, "Garfield. He's so funny… Mom says that cats really don't eat lasagna." She looked up at me with a strikingly familiar pair of icy blue eyes, as if for confirmation.

I shrugged, "Well, I've never met a cat who ate pasta."

As she giggled and returned to reading, I stepped towards Selina who was retrieving a carafe of orange juice from the refrigerator. When she saw me, we locked eyes briefly before I asked, "Selina, I was wondering if… Maybe I could talk with Bruce…"

"Alone," she said. After I managed to nod she said, "Sure, follow me. Mattie, I'll be right back, try and finish the comics so we can make some pancakes."

"Can we make waffles?" she asked, her lower lip in full pout.

"We'll see." We stepped back into the hallway and moved towards the rear of the house. Bruce had taken me down a similar path five years earlier. It had been the first and last time he head ever lead me into his lair. When we paused at the grandfather clock, Selina reached and changed the hands. As I listened the locks disengage, I glanced over at an oil portrait that hung over the fireplace. It was then that I realized that every time he entered the Batcave, he had to do so under the watchful eyes of his parents…

As the door shifted, she stepped back, "He should be at the computer… Do you want me to?"

I shook my head, "I think I can manage. Thanks." I walked through and looked back at her as she guided the clock back into position. When the locks clanked, I let out a shaky breath, "Here we go…"

I took the granite steps as quietly as possible, surprised how much my soles scraping on stone was insignificant in the cavern. Water running somewhere. The shriek of bats. The clatter of typing. At the bottom of the stairs, I noticed that most of the overhead lights were off and that a majority of the illumination in the Cave came from a massive display screen. Its light reflected off of various glass enclosed items, two of which I recognized to be the final resting places of two very important costumes.

He was seated in the computer console's sole chair, dressed in a black sweater and dark jeans. I smiled to see he had sheepskin lined loafers on his feet and a steaming mug of coffee on the countertop. My smile quickly faded when I looked up at the screen.

A newspaper scanned and displayed on the broad screen. The date in the upper left corner was nearly eighteen years old. A bold headline read: Bat-Man Strikes Again! A blurry black and white photo depicted a dark shadow moving atop the roof of the First Bank of Gotham. After two years, he was still thought of as a myth, with only blurry photographs and no evidence to prove his existence aside from hearsay…

As I stepped up onto the platform that housed the computer console, I did my best to move in the stealthy fashion that he had so easily mastered. He didn't show any outward sign that he had recognized my presence, but that meant nothing. If there was one thing that I had learned in my years in Gotham was that Batman knew everything.

I sighed, thinking to myself that perhaps that I was about to disprove that theory.

The soft exhalation I made caused him to pause typing. His eyes shifted slightly, not focusing on the newspaper but on my reflection. I looked as well and realized how awkward it should be to see him like this… To tell him like this… So vulnerable…

"Back then, I always thought that we would turn this city around. Make it a safe place for the people who lived here… I even hoped that one day there wouldn't be a need for people like you and me… I also thought that if we were needed we would be able to do our jobs forever…"

He was frozen in his chair, eyes unwavering, and made no attempt to move or reply.

I put my hands on my pants pockets and looked at his reflection carefully, "This case, that you have Robin working on… Reminds me of that one that Dick solved when he was just starting out, with Mad Hatter… He saved all of those girls, risking his life without a second thought. At first, I thought it had been because he was foolish and young, but I knew different. It was because you taught him that the lives of innocents were more important than your own."

There was a long moment of silence before I could continue, "But this case is different… I don't see a happy ending with teary-eyed girls coming home to their parents..." I watched as his head lowered slightly, his eyes studying his feet. Perhaps he did know everything. Knew that this was coming for so long…

"I never want to face the dark truths, I guess," I said softly, "And neither did you. I want you to be the first to know… It has to be you because you've been there since the beginning, you're part of what made me stay… And you're the only one that I can trust enough… To take care of my city when I'm gone."

After looking at the computer screen once more, at the ancient history that neither one of us was willing to forget. For some reason, the certainty that I had felt while driving up to Wayne Manor had all but vanished. I felt my throat growing tighter as my chest seemed unwilling to cooperate. As I felt my eyes grow hot, I turned away and headed towards the staircase.

Just as I took the first step, I heard the soft padding of loafers on stone. As I reached the fifth step, he spoke softly, his voice suddenly younger than I had ever heard it, "Jim, I…"

I looked back, "It's for the best. I'll be staying on for another month…Hopefully this missing persons case is wrapped up by then," I smirked, "Hell, if your boy solves it faster it may not even be that long… I've got faith in him. He had a good teacher…"

The task of climbing the stairs seemed harder than it should have been. Especially when I realized he wasn't following me. Once in the Manor, I found Selina and Mattie eating in the kitchen nook. When she asked what she could fix for me, I shook my head, "Maybe some other time…"

On the drive back home, I ended up pulling off to a rest area, unable to see the road through glassy eyes.

V

"I'm sorry, for yesterday…" I said suddenly.

Barbara was in the kitchen, fixing the door hinge of the cupboard under the sink. When she turned, I did my best to look apologetic. Wide eyes, lower lip pinned between my incisors while I cocked a leg. In the last twenty-four hours we had barely talked one another and living in the same apartment had made for some substantial tension. I had spent the time beating the life out of the sand bags in the training room and working herself exhausted. She, on the other hand, had been doing her best to avoid me by baking, cleaning and fixing things that were in perfect order.

Barbara turned slightly in her chair, "Me, too. It was uncalled for-."

I interrupted, "No, I… You were right."

We nodded in unison as the doorbell rang. I smirked, "I'll get it."

I jogged to the front door and peered through peephole slightly to see him, dressed in a black suit with pale blue shirt and midnight blue tie. I rarely saw him dressed up and smiled to myself, thinking how different he looked when he wore that "other" suit.

After I opened the door, he nodded, "Cassandra."

"Hi," I said before moving aside. I expected Selina to follow him in, as they and Dick and Barbara were all going out to dinner. Instead the hallway was empty. He asked where Barbara was and I said, "Should be in the kitchen."

I followed him, keeping a good three yards between us. When he paused at the kitchen door, Barbara said, "Good evening Bruce."

He asked, "Need a hand?"

"No," she turned to face him, "Aren't you early?"

He glanced at his watch, one that most likely cost more than a mid-sized car, "Slightly. Traffic was better than I had expected."

"You're such a pessimist," Barbara commented, "Where's Selina?" the question I had wanted to ask…

"She's going to meet us there."

That raised a red flag, "Oh?"

As he looked around the kitchen, Bruce said, "She was running late at the Preserve."

"Ah… Well, I'll be ready in a bit. Dick's in the den I think."

He glanced to his right down a broad hallway, "Fine." As he looked back to Barbara's face, she hardened her gaze, pushing the subtle hint into overdrive. After a second he nodded, "Right, well, I'm going to go check in with him."

"Good idea," she muttered as I stepped into the kitchen.

Having showered and changed already into a clean blouse and calf-length skirt, all she had left was to "do" her hair and face. I sat on the stool at the counter, wondering what I was going to have for dinner as she left to get ready. By the time she had returned, I had narrowed it down to O'Reiley's corned beef sandwich or Portinelli's Shrimp Alfredo. We shared an awkward smile before making our way down the hallway.

We found Bruce and Dick in the den, surprisingly sitting on the same couch. She paused a little before the end of the hallway and motioned for me to do the same. Before I could ask why, she held a pointer finger to her lips. Like I was about to interrupt father-and-son time between the most dysfunctional father and son pairing on the planet.

I signed to her, 'What are they doing?'

She paused before replying, 'Having a heart to heart.'

My brow twitched, and I signed, 'They're not doing anything."

Barbara whispered, "What girls will say in many sentences, guys will convey in a grunt. Watch."

Bruce just grunted and she translated, "He's saying 'I'm sorry I was distant and cold'."

Dick sighed, "Ehhh."

"There, he's saying 'I accept your apology and hope this begins a new chapter of understanding'."

I smirked and watched as Bruce said, "Uh huh."

She stepped in, "Which means 'I am delighted you feel that way. Open communication is the cornerstone to parent/offspring relations'."

Dick coughed twice which she translated as, "You are correct in your assessing high value to the importance of open dialogue. Far too many families fall by the wayside due to silence."

I was doing my best to keep from laughing after Barbara translated Bruce's exhale and nod as, "We should also endeavor to spend quality time together in which we can discuss our current goals and compare recent experiences. Perhaps weekly dinners at the Manor would ideally suit this undertaking."

Dick replied with a soft "Hmmm," which obviously meant, "That sounds like an excellent plan. I will work it into my weekly calendar and look forward to it greatly. I believe we're both free on Friday evening."

To top it off, they gently punched each other in the shoulder, which was the equivalent of a hug. I finally let out a small laugh, causing Bruce and Dick to look at us suddenly. After I waved at them, I punched Barbara softly in the shoulder and walked back down the hallway. However, I was still in earshot as Dick approached Barbara and said, "We're having dinner on Friday night at the Manor, you know, if you want to come up."

I lost all control and giggled to myself and ended up pausing in the hallway, hoping to catch more of the randomness that was my family. When Dick asked what was so funny, I heard Barbara say, "Nothing. Now go get a tie on, you're not going to Espace dressed like that."

He asked, "What's wrong with this?"

"Aside from the fact that you look like you just got done with your graduation ceremony?" Ouch, low blow.

"That's not true," he growled, barely able to hide his smirk. He looked down at his navy button up shirt and dark slacks before looking back at Bruce's immaculate three-piece suit. A beat later and he was heading down the hall towards me and ducked into Barbara's room.

Alone, Bruce sat back down on the couch and I watched as Barbara moved closer to him, "So, who has the munchkin?"

"Alfred," he replied. I watched as he leaned back into the couch, resting his head as he closed his eyes. He hadn't looked tired when I had first seen him in the doorway, but he sure did then. Long nights of hunting down drug dealers was showing…

That or one of the other million reasons he had not to get a full night's sleep…

"Are we going to dinner or what?" Dick's voice sounded from down the room.

"Yes, impatient one," she called back. Bruce stood and smoothed out his coat before offering Barbara to lead the way down the hall with a ladies' first gesture. She shook her head, "Seniority first."

"Don't even," he growled as he did his best to hide the half-smirk on his lips.

Like father, like son…

V

We were nearly home when I asked, "You all right?"

"Fine," Bruce muttered, eyes locked straight, staring out at the road in front of him, "Why do you ask?"

I sighed and fiddled with my bracelet, "Just wondering. You were awful quiet at dinner…"

He sighed softly and I noticed his shoulders relax a fraction, "Just tired is all."

Tired… Seemed to be his excuse for everything lately but I wasn't about to say that while he was behind the wheel of a car. Something had happened that morning when Jim had gone downstairs, because when Bruce came up, he was tenser than I had seen him in a long time. I wanted to ask if they had fought or something but then again, he didn't seem to be in the mood for expressing his emotions unless it was on a punch bag.

To test the waters, I waited a minute before reaching over and setting a hand on his knee. The muscle beneath tensed then relaxed as my nails toured the edges of his patella. I had done so early, at dinner and he had paused before crossing his legs and brushing my hand away.

Not in the mood.

Brooding I could handle, impoliteness was fine at times but this had just about gone as far as I could tolerate it. I pinched the kneecap slightly and watched him wince, finally paying full attention to me, "What was that for?" he asked. When I didn't answer, he looked over at me and realized that I had wanted his eyes on me. He paused, then looked back out to the empty road, muttering, "I'm listening."

"What happened this morning? With Jim."

He drew a long breath, doing his best to avoid answering by making himself appear to be in deep thought. Another pinch and his lip twitched downward briefly, "He wanted to talk."

"About…?" I asked, knowing damn well it wasn't to discuss the Gotham Knights upcoming season.

He slowed before taking the turn onto our private road, "Work." He glanced at me briefly before elaborating, "He's retiring in a month."

My eyes widened, having no idea that had been on the table. It quickly began to make sense, how Jim's visit had been ended so abruptly when he came from upstairs. Why Bruce had barely been able to hide his scowl from his daughter for the rest of the day.

"Bruce, I'm-."

"Don't worry about it," he cut in, his voice a fraction darker than usual. His shoulders had bunched again and the muscles of his thighs had gone taut.

"No, Bruce. I worry about it. I know how much he means to you."

When he looked over at me, his brows raised almost as much as his voice, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Bruce, he's been here just as long as you have. I couldn't imagine how him stepping down would impact how you go about things from now on…"

"From now on?" he asked quietly.

I nodded and moved my hand to his arm, "Bruce, all I'm saying is that-."

"Is that because Jim is quitting that I should too? That we're both too old to handle this city? That it's only a matter of time before I have to hang up the cowl?" his voice rose with every question.

You don't yell at a cat and get away with it.

"All I'm saying Bruce is that you need to start thinking about the future, the immediate and the distant," I snapped back, taking my hand off of him and crossing it with my right one across my chest.

"You think I haven't thought about it?" he growled, "Every time my knees lock or that I get a headache or every time that I am exhausted halfway through patrols, that's all I can think about, Selina. You don't understand what it's like-."

"The hell I don't, Bruce. I've hung up my cowl and I seemed to survive just fine. And don't you dare say I wasn't as dependent on it as you."

"It's still different, it's not a matter of dependence, it's necessity… There is a need for a crime fighter, not a crimin-."

I turned in my seat suddenly and glared at him as we pulled to a stop in front of the Manor, "Don't you even dare… It doesn't matter, Bruce, it's the same exact lifestyle, the same risks, right down the middle. The only difference was that you did it for free and that I made a profit!"

Before he could make a remark, I got out and slammed the door shut. I took long, quick strides towards the house, doing my best to ignore the quick footfalls behind me. I reached the door, opened it and slammed that as well, right in his face. Without pausing to remove my coat, I continued through the foyer and towards the stairwell.

After I heard the door open and close softly, I heard his voice, "Selina, please…"

In one move, I stopped and spun to face him, "What?" I asked before climbing back down the steps and towards him. When I was mere inches away, I growled, "What could you possibly have left to say to me?"

As we locked our eyes, for the first time I saw the hurt in his eyes.

The worry in his face.

The sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry…"

V

Holy multiple updates in one month, Batman!


	15. One And Only: XV

Title: One And Only: XV

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and… apart?

Rating: PG 13 for language

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Thanks everyone for reading, and an even bigger thanks to Chris for keeping me focused and entertained.

A/N 3: The Fooze Ball table, the Big White Dog and Bruce's gifts to Dick and Babarbara are influenced by those seen in "Friends". Thanks Chris for the idea, now if only we could get Dick to speak Chandler-ese…. And the final scene reflects that of Mulder and Scully in The X-Files' episode "Arcadia"… because it's cute… and stuff.

A/N 4: Ugh, terribly sorry for the delay, midterms were a hair short of insanity. Chapter 16 is well under way and should be up shortly.

V

"Miss Mattie?" I asked.

"She's not here," I heard the muted voice reply. It wasn't difficult to discern that the child was no doubt tucked away in her closet, planning some sort of scheme to catch me off guard. Instead of calling her out, I decided it was best to entertain her.

"Oh, well then I'd best dispose of her breakfast… Such a pity… I was almost certain she would have enjoyed cinnamon apple waffles…"

The door of her closet sprung open suddenly and she cried out in glee, "April Fool's Alfred!"

I put a hand over my heart, "Heavens, I would have never known… Well you certainly have won this round, my dear."

Still sporting her blue nightgown, she skipped over to me, barely able to bottle her excitement. Master Dick had thoroughly explained the importance of April Fool's to her last spring, being sure that she was well schooled in a variety of jokes and pranks. Needless to say, after a refresher course the week before, the child was ready to keep all of us on our toes for the entire day.

"Is Mom and Dad up yet?"

As I approached her bed, I replied, "I have yet to greet them this morning," and as I began to make her bed, "Perhaps you could take on that task, Miss Mattie."

She retrieved a stuffed horse from the floor and set it beside her pillow, "Okay, I can do that." After she patted the small steed's brow, she spun on her heel and made haste into the hall and towards her parents' bedroom.

One week earlier, when I had gone to wake Master Bruce and Ms. Selina, I had been taken aback when only she resided in the bedroom. Upon questioning her, she had informed me that he had gone for an unreasonably early morning run. Not unlike him, but it certainly was not his normal course of behavior. When he had returned, drenched in a cold sweat and cheeks red from the exercise and early morning chill, he seemed quite at peace with himself.

Something I had taken note of rather quickly in light of the sporadic tension that had risen in Wayne Manor of late.

Knowing he would be the last to speak up on the subject, I sought out Ms. Selina that afternoon for tea. She described the fight they had while returning from dinner, how it had grown out of nothing and had erupted in an uncontrollable battle of wits. When I had asked what had been at the root of the feud, she had disclosed the fact that Master Bruce had been deeply upset by Commissioner Gordon's recent visit and the announcement of his retirement.

After I made the bed and straightened the horse beside the pillow, I also proceeded to make my way down the hall towards the master bedroom. The left hand door was slightly open but there was not even the slightest hint of light coming from the room. As I paused at the door, I carefully peered in to see that Miss Mattie had taken a seat on the edge of the bed beside her slumbering father. It had been a little before five in the morning when he had made his way up from the Cave after patrols, and with less than two hours of sleep…

"Morning..." he grumbled softly.

"Morning, Daddy," she beamed, "Guess what day it is?"

He sighed heavily as his head rolled on the pillow, "What day?"

"Guess!" she exclaimed.

Ms. Selina's arm appeared from beneath the covers and touched her daughter's shoulders, "Just guess, Bruce."

He sighed again and mumbled incoherently.

"No, it's not Easter… Guess again."

After witnessing two failed attempts at guessing what the date's importance, I passed through the door, "Perhaps a hint would be beneficial, young lady."

"Okay, um, you get to play tricks on people."

Ms. Selina rose slowly before pushing back the covers, "Bruce, where did all that training go to?"

He muttered softly again and Miss Mattie leaned against his chest, "Give up, Dad?"

As I went about drawing back the curtains, I watched as he nodded slightly. The child giggled in delight, "It's April Fool's Day."

"Ah," he replied before rolling over and pulling the covers over his head.

Her attempts lasted for five minutes, all futile in rousing her father. As a pout began to grow on her lips, I suggested that she assist me in preparing breakfast, of which caused a small smirk. Just as she was about to hop off the bed, I was shocked to see Master Bruce move suddenly, wrapping both arms around his child's small form, "April Fool's..."

A savage tickling commenced and I quickly departed as Ms. Selina stormed out of the bathroom, clad in a large blue robe, no doubt prepared to reprimand her other half for rousing the child before a long day in town. A rowdy child never boded well for the commute from Bristol, especially at eight on a Sunday morning.

An hour later, Miss Mattie and her mother had joined me in the breakfast nook for crepes Suzette. Ms. Selina had convinced her daughter to allow Master Bruce a little longer to rest, of which had been protested with an infamous pouty lower lip. Once she resigned her quest to wake her father, Ms. Selina had watched as she leaned in and whispered into his ear before kissing his cheek. She had stepped away from him, eyes carefully set to his face before finally turning and walking into the hallway.

When she had been first born, it had been a worry of Master Bruce's that she would one day outgrow her affection towards him. And it was moments such as those that disproved his theory. I could easily predict a full grown Mattie Wayne giggling at her father…

V

The last thing I remembered was eating orange sorbet and listening to Mom and Dad at lunch.

I woke up in the backseat of the car, just as we pulled up in front of the house. Still sleepy, I closed my eyes and waited to see if Dad would carry me like he usually did. As my door opened, I heard Dad's leather coat crinkle softly as he reached over to undo my seat belt. He then wrapped his arms around me and lifted me carefully before shutting the door and heading for the front of the house.

Mom was to his left and talked softly, "When are you heading out?"

"Dusk," he said, "They're going to be working on clubs closer to GSU tonight, hopefully turn something up."

"How many girls is it now?"

He sighed as he climbed up the stairs and paused at the front door, "Over forty. That we know of."

After he passed through the entrance, I peeked out of one eye to see Mom run a hand through her hair. It had been up at lunch, she must have let it down when I was sleeping. Since I had a hard time brushing and braiding my own hair, Mom would often let me do so on hers. When she turned, I caught a glimpse of her face before shutting my eye. She looked… sad.

Dad shifted his arm and said, "I'll put her upstairs. Be right back."

"Okay," she said softly before reaching out and touching my back gently. As we headed for the stairs, I listened as her heels moved in a different direction.

By the time we reached my bedroom, I could not keep from yawning. Dad rubbed my shoulders, "Waking up, kitten?"

I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck, "Nope." When I felt him lay me on the bed, I asked him what time it was.

"Almost three. Quite a nap there."

I smiled and reached for my stuffed pony, "I wasn't sleeping, it was an April Foo…" I couldn't finish because of another yawn.

He pulled a quilt off of the edge of the bed and covered me up, "Very funny… I'll come get you when it's time for dinner."

As he turned to walk out the door, I said, "You should take a nap, too."

Dad paused at the door and looked back at me with a slight smirk, "Probably, but I have to get some things done for work."

"You're always working…" I muttered as I hugged my little brown pony.

Instead of leaving me, he stepped back to my bedside and sat gently on the edge of it. As he began to rub my back softly, he said, "I know, kitten, and I'm sorry. But there are things that I have to do, responsibilities…"

I nodded, recognizing words he often said whenever I pointed out how he was busy all the time. Dad was usually pretty good at making adult things easy for me to understand. Especially when Dick had been working really hard and had missed my birthday…

"Tell you what, after dinner and after a bath, how about we spend some time together, just us. We can do whatever you want to do."

I paused, "Hmm, you promise?"

He smiled, "I promise."

I held out my right hand and extended my pinkie finger. He looked down at it and reached over with his hand, pinkie out as well, before hooking his with mine. As we shook on it, he leaned over and kissed my cheek, "Sweet dreams, kitten."

I didn't dream, but I did wake up before Dad came up to get me for dinner. I stretched out my arms and brushed my hair before heading towards the stairs. I could smell something coming from the kitchen, but before checking in with Alfred, I sought out my parents to let them know I had come down. It would be silly for Dad to go all the way upstairs if he didn't have to.

They were in the den, sitting on the couch together and watching the television. Mom had her back pressed against his chest, her head settled under his chin. As I moved closer I smiled to see that both of them were asleep. So much for work.

I pulled an afghan off of another couch and covered them up carefully before turning the TV off and sneaking out of the room. Once in the hall, I skipped a few strides and turned towards the kitchen.

"Alfred?" I asked while peering in through the door.

"Ah, Miss Mattie. What a pleasant surprise. How did the trip into town fair?"

I shrugged and climbed up onto one of the stools, "It was okay. Hard to play jokes when you're out though."

I watched as he stirred something as it simmered on the stovetop, "Very true. But the night is young, Miss Mattie, and I'm sure Master Dick taught you an array of tricks to perform at the dinner table."

I smirked, thinking of the whole list of jokes Dick and I had been practicing. He said I was probably safe to do any of them, and if I did he said it was okay to blame him. "That's true," I said to Alfred, "Hey, Alfred?"

"Yes?" he asked while peering over his shoulder at me.

"Where's Dad going tonight?"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked as he turned around completely.

I shrugged, "Dad told Mom he was going somewhere later. After dusk," I bit my lower lip, "Something about forty girls…"

He looked away briefly before approaching me, "Unfortunately, I'm not aware of any evening plans, young miss. I wouldn't worry too much on it. After all, there are place settings to rearrange."

My brow rose, "How did you know?"

He smiled, "It is an April Fool's Tradition of Master Dick's… One that still manages to catch your father, I might add," he glanced back at the stovetop, "I would hurry though, as dinner will be ready shortly." I slipped off of the stool, hugged him quickly and then raced towards the dining room.

I had work to do.

V

For the fifth time in two hours, I was doing my best not to grin.

Tim and I were in the matted training room in the Clocktower, drenched in sweat and covered in mat burns. We had been sparring for over an hour, following a light warm-up. We had spent most of the day together, touring the Mall before lunch in the Food Court, a matinee presentation of a new anime film and then back to the Clocktower to battle wits with Madlibs and Pictionary. It was so normal, that it scared me.

Our decision to explore a possible relationship with one another wasn't exactly set in stone. It just seemed to be working out that way. I'd visit him at school during the week and on weekends he'd come into town to hang with me during the day. But no matter what was going on, somehow, someway, we'd meet up on the rooftops for a midnight game of tag.

"Give up?" I asked as I brushed back a strand of hair behind my ear.

Tim, sprawled on the mats, looked up at me wearily, "Never."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged and assumed a fighter's stance. He flipped back up onto his feet and swung a quick jab-roundhouse combination. I stepped to the left after blocking the punch and then proceeded to retaliate with a similar maneuver, only quicker and harder.

Unlike earlier, he blocked both hits and quickly shifted his weight back before throwing another kick to my side. As I stepped back, I felt his toe graze my side. He smirked, "So close."

"Yet so far away," I replied before squatting and striking at the back of his knee. Tim slipped away from the blow and landed on me, hands quickly grasping mine in order to manipulate me onto my stomach. Just as I was about the elbow him in the solar plexus, I heard a voice clear at the door.

We both looked up to see Dick leaning against the door frame, dressed in running shorts and a long-sleeved black shirt. "You kids done horsing around?"

Tim sat up and asked, "Why?"

I stood and straightened my shirt as Dick replied, "Well, you've got patrols that need tending to and I have some yoga that needs doing."

I helped Tim up and we made our way out into the hallway. After looking at my watch I said, "Almost seven."

"Yeah, we should get going. Hit up the clubs for a bit, then regular patrols."

I mentally pictured the list of clubs we were planning on scoping out that night and said, "Sounds like a plan. Meet you at Ricochet's?"

He nodded, "Yep."

I felt his eyes trained on the back of my head as I walked to my room. Just before I passed through the door, the feeling vanished and I turned to see him gone. Eerie. I took my time getting dressed, wearing one of my new favorite outfits: a pair of faded blue jeans and a black tank top with a glitter pattern of fire over the front of it. After applying a bit of makeup, I went about packing my Batgirl suit into a duffle bag.

A week earlier, I had been at the Cave, getting supplies and restocking my utility belts and had a brief talk with Batman. At first, he had asked about any updated information on the missing persons case. We had little progress from the club stakeouts and in light of our work; another five women had gone missing. He didn't seem upset though, not from what I could tell. It was a hard case, Tim always reminded me when things looked down, and hard cases never solve themselves.

As I had turned to head back to my cycle, Batman had cleared his throat, "Cassandra?"

"Yes?"

The look on his face had been so perplexing… Almost as if it was a mixture between anguish and uncertainty. He looked down at his feet before locking his gaze with mine, "I need to ask a favor of you."

"Anything."

I had listened to his words carefully, recognizing the forced calmness in his voice. The look in his eye was unnerving; the uncertainty that had been present a moment earlier had been replaced with a complete clarity. When he was through, I simply nodded and then gave him my word to do what I could and that I wouldn't tell anyone.

Especially Tim.

"Look at you…" Barbara's voice interrupted my thoughts. She was just outside my room, holding a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of chocolate chip cookies in her lap, "You heading out?"

I nodded and donned a black leather coat before swinging my bag over my shoulder, "Yeah."

"Was watching you and Tim, over the monitor. Seemed like you were letting loose on him… Something wrong, you two have a fight?"

I shook my head quickly, "No, nothing like that," I thought back on how I had given my word to him… "Just seemed like he could use the extra push."

"Ah. Well be safe out there, don't need you twisting an ankle on the dance floor."

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, rolled my eyes and sighed, "As if…"

As previously arranged, I was at Ricochet's, one of the premiere nightclubs in Gotham, by quarter of eight. Despite the fact that it was a Sunday evening, the club already was at half of its capacity. The bars were layered with patrons and the dance floor was just warming up. I found a spot near the bar, managed to slip through to get a cola before slipping back out to walk through the club.

"Cass?" Robin's voice came over the comm. link

"Hear you," I replied, barely moving my lips. I sipped my drink before continuing, "Looks good so far."

"Good. I'm checking exits now. Contact me if you see anything."

Mainly, we had been focusing on older men, in small groups, that scanned the selections of women in the clubs and took note if they pointed, discussed or eyed any of them for any great lengths. This was a slight challenge, since the drunken the attendants, the more difficult it became to discern alcohol induced leers with possible predators.

At a quarter of ten, I had noticed two mid-thirties gentleman dressed in second rate suits had yet to leave their stools at the bar. The average age of the patrons was twenty-three, making them stick out like a sore thumb. They had been watching a number of women in the club, pointing out several that fit the broad profile of victims we had formed.

Just as I was about to update Robin, a tall, broad shouldered man, slightly intoxicated, approached the two men, his face red and angry. Two girls and another man of similar build joined the confrontation and before I could blink, fists began flying.

I moved in close, heard four lettered accusations of "eyeing my girl" and shouts from the bartender for the bouncers to get things under control. As the two boyfriends tackled the bigger of the two older men, the other slipped out of the group and aced for the rear exit.

"Robin, rabbit coming out the back, six-four, 220, black suit, brown hair. Possible Mario," I said. A Mario was what we had collectively decided to label possible suspects in the case.

He paused before answering in a low growl, "See him. Get changed and get out here."

I was already on my way to the bathroom where I had hidden my backpack in a vent, "Okay, boss."

V

"Wh… Where am I?"

I was perched above the tightly bound man as he swayed like a pendulum in the light wind. We were forty-six stories above Hampden Avenue, Batgirl was far below, just in case things didn't go as planned. But I had learned from the best, planning for any element to go wrong.

As I crouched on the ledge of the building, the perp, suspended from the gargoyle's broad form, was slowly coming to. It hadn't taken much to corner him in the alley behind Ricochet's and it was just one short blow more to knock him unconscious. For the full effect, I had blindfolded him long before we had made the trek up to the top of the apartment building.

Batgirl, changed from her undercover outfit, and had identified him as being one of the two men she had watched inside. As I hefted him up and trussed him with ropes, she explained how he and his accomplice had fit the patterns of behavior that they had been looking for in the past few weeks. When I asked her where the other man was, she looked back to the club's rear door and said, "Someone else noticed him looking. Brave knights defending fair maidens."

I almost had smirked at that.

Almost.

He stammered again, "Where the… Where the hell am I?"

I reached over and undid the blindfold with the flick of my wrist. As his eyes widened, his brain calculated that the ground was far, far away and a moment later, he let out a shrill scream of terror.

So worth it.

Breathless, he looked to his left and then to his right, where I sat waiting. He tried to regain some of his composure and said, "Jesus, thought you left me here, you masked freak."

I reached a hand back and retrieved a small capsule from my utility belt. "This contains a fourteen percent concentration of sulphuric acid. It could eat through a steel door in a few minutes."

"S-so, what is this, a science fair?" the man snapped back, eyes locked on to the capsule in my hand.

Carefully, I undid the top of the capsule, applied an insulated application tip and leaned over and dabbed the rope with the acid. Within seconds, the line began fizzing. As I sat back and returned the capsule to my belt, I looked over the edge at the ground below before looking back at his sweat-covered face.

"As you may have guessed, the acid is currently eating through the only thing that is keeping you from falling forty-six stories…"

Panic was beginning to overtake his forced controlled exterior, "You won't let me fall… You can't…"

I narrowed my eyes and leaned closer to him. In a low growl, I continued, "You're not smart, but I'm sure you understand the law of gravity and the impact it will have on you in about twenty seconds."

"You won't…" he mumbled, his wary eyes nervously glancing from my face to the ground below. The rope gave slightly as the acid continued to work its way through it. He cried out slightly and looked at me, "Hey!"

In response, I stood and looked over the skyline of the city.

"Hey! What are you...?" I watched out of the corner of my eye as he moved slightly, causing his form to sway slightly. The rope jerked slightly under the new strain and he yelped, "What do you want, man?"

"Information."

"Huh, about what?" he gulped.

Back to the crouch, I leaned in and inspected the corrosion as I spoke, "I know what you were doing tonight. Looking for prospects."

"N-no… What the hell are you ta-AHHH!" he cried out as the rope gave. I watched calmly as he writhed for freedom against his bindings and fell towards the ground below. A second later I threw my line, a Batarang anchoring securely around his legs. I wrapped the line around the gargoyle's neck and slowly retracted him back up to me.

"Let's try that again," I said smoothly.

He was shaking uncontrollably; sweat pouring out of him despite the cold. The wide set eyes reminded me of a deer caught in the headlights of certain oncoming doom.

"I want information. You're going to give it to me. If you don't, we can play the yo-yo game, but after a while, I can't guarantee that I'll catch you."

He pursed his lips in response.

"Fine," I sighed and released a few yards of slack.

His scream was immediate, "Stop! I'll…. Just stop!"

I reeled him back in, "I'm listening."

"It's a whole ring of us, pairs mostly, we get a list of clubs to go visit, a basic type to look for..." he said loudly, doing his best to look up at me.

I reached over and grabbed his coat collar, "Where do you take them?"

He stammered, "I… We take them to whatever place we're meeting at that night, drop them off, get our money and leave."

I let him go and asked, "Who's in charge?"

He shook his head frantically, "I don't know, I swear to God, I don't know. He wears a mask and a fedora all the time, talks real low… Always wearing dark suits… "

"What kind of mask?" I growled.

He drew a ragged breath, "Black wooden one, covers his whole face. I swear, he never told us his name. Never."

Black Mask…

I hardened my glare and watched as his trembling resumed. Whether it was out of fear or as a result of him being upside down for nearly twenty minutes, his eyes slowly rolled upward and his form grew limp. "Wimp," I muttered as I reached for the line around his ankles. As I dragged his unconscious form onto the rooftop beside me, I spoke into the comm. link, "Batgirl, we're through up here."

"I called in to Dispatch to pick him up. Where to next?"

"Clocktower."

She replied, "You get anything from him?"

"You could say that. See you in a few." I closed the connection and dragged the limp body and dropped it in the center of the rooftop. After taking fingerprint samples from him and checking ID earlier, I had no further use of him. When I returned to the edge of the roof, I jerked my eyes towards the sight of movement on an adjacent rooftop. A slight shadow of movement…

No time for paranoid delusions, Timmy, You've got work to do.

V

At a little after four in the morning, I finally stepped off of the stairwell onto the third floor landing of Wayne Manor.

Nearly six hours earlier, I had been on the rooftop of the Abner Industries Headquarters building, pretending that the wind wasn't dropping the temperature to eighteen degrees. Hidden behind an external air duct, I had a perfect view of Robin interrogating Raymond Gravener. His name was not unknown to me, as he had been inconsistently involved with various gangs in Gotham, but most notably Black Mask.

Roman Sionis. Neither his existence nor his death had ever been confirmed following our last encounter over seven years ago. Going underground and showing no signs of activity had reduced his importance but he never left my thoughts. For underestimating him had proved to be a fatal error in the past, one of which I did not plan on ever committing again.

But as I stood there, watching and listening to Robin's voice over the frequency I had tapped into, I wasn't listening to the information the perp was offering. All I could focus on was the word's coming from Robin. Nothing like the words he had decreed years ago, pre-pubescent declarations as to why Batman needed a Robin…

"Bruce?"

I looked up to see Selina peering out of our bedroom door. When I looked back in front of me, I realized I had paused in front of Mattie's room.

As dusk fell earlier that evening, I managed to play a partial game of Chutes & Ladders before heading out for patrols. Mattie had been on the verge of becoming upset, but Alfred quickly saved the day with a plate of sugar cookies and hot cocoa. It had always been one of the harder tasks in life, leaving her every night…

Selina walked over to me, wrapped up in a blanket, and paused at Mattie's door as well. She then looked at me, "Ready?"

I offered a slight nod before following her towards our room. I had planned on being home earlier, but the events of the night had done little to help. I, along with Oracle, Batgirl and Robin, had met at the Clocktower in order to plug in the new information on the missing persons case.

Black Mask's involvement suggested a more profit-based crime, based not only on his mob boss status, but his previous obsessions with wealth and power. The kidnapping ring no doubt was, as Robin and Batgirl had suggested, a selling of young women into the black market. A dark, over-looked crime that had never been truly been a problem in my city. The women being taken were no doubt held for a limited time before being shipped out to South East Asia…

"Busy night?" Selina asked as she sat on her side of the bed.

I nodded and slowly reclined next to her.

After the meeting, Robin and Batgirl had left to patrol the remainder of their sectors, both rejuvenated after a break of success in their case. I had at first been cautious about their investigation, especially after it seemed to broaden its impact on the city on a near daily basis. Seeing their tenacity and their determined nature had quelled a vast majority of my anxiety. That was until Sionis came into the picture. He was a ruthless character, with a long running hatred towards myself and my followers. Slaying a masked figure would make his day…

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder, "Roll over, let me take a crack at these rhomboids." After shifting to lay on my stomach, her fingers quickly scanned the muscles of my back and found the knot that had been bothering me all day. "So busy night… Let me guess… Twelve muggings, nineteen armed robberies, seventeen car-jackings, three hostage situations, four attempted jumpers off any one of the bridges, and one cat stuck in a tree in Robinson Park."

As the tension of my shoulders seemed to melt away, I replied, "No cats…"

"Shh."

"Yes, dear."

Thirty minutes of silence was broken by, "Better?"

I mumbled into the pillow, "Much."

Her hands made their way to my lower back, "You ruined my evening, you know. Mattie was whiney about taking a bath, fussy about going to bed… Started that pretend crying nonsense when I told her you weren't going to be there to read to her…"

"Your point?" shaped fingernails dug into my sides and I flinched, "Hrm."

Another two minutes and Selina sat up next to my head and leaned her back against the pillows. "Didn't get to talk to Barbara much tonight, she said something about a meeting."

I rolled my head to face her, "Break in Robin and Batgirl's case."

"Ah," she said as if that explained everything. I had noticed over the years how she was drawing back, not asking questions or picking for as many details as she used to. I never brought it up with her, knowing full well that it would take her a second and a half to make me wish I hadn't.

"Well. That's a relief," she commented as she reached over and shut the bedside lamp off, eliminating the only source of light in the room. After she slipped under the covers, she reached over and touched my side, "Bruce?"

I sat up slowly and looked towards the door, letting out a long sigh. Another moment later and I was under the blankets beside her. The undue tension that I had let grow between us had nearly vanished in the last few weeks. I had even taken a day off solely to visit the Preserve with her four days earlier. Although we had yet to go out to dinner since just after Dick came to Gotham to stay with Barbara.

Selina was asleep within twenty minutes.

Aiming for sleep myself, I matched my breathing with her deep, slow breaths. With my eyes closed, I replayed that evening's meeting in the Clocktower. Tim had been fairly active, asking Oracle to search the Coast Guard and Customs for records on leased warehouses on the docks. A few hits surfaced, as well as a list of possible squatting buildings that were unclaimed. The next night of patrols would involve an intensive search of the docks, focusing on the various buildings Oracle had come up with. In addition, undercover work would be lessened in order to accommodate the new task.

Batgirl had said, "Shucks… Just bought new shoes."

Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the door open slowly. When I saw Mattie's pajama clad form shuffle into the room, I chanced a glance at the bedside clock on Selina's side: 4:48 a.m.

"Kitten?" I whispered.

Without a word, she crawled up on the bed and snuck under the covers. Before I could make a move to touch her, her arms quickly found their way around my neck as she sighed into my chest.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked while rubbing her back.

She shook her head and looked up at me before mumbling, "Nope. Missed you."

I paused, "I missed you too, kitten," but she was already asleep.

V

"Breakfast in bed? To what do I owe the honor?" Barbara asked me as she sat up against the pillows.

I beamed at her from the doorway of the bedroom, carefully balancing two plates and two mugs on a serving tray. I had awoken a little after seven, toasted a few frozen waffles and whipped up some mocha swirl cappuccino for our first breakfast as official roommates.

Two days earlier, which was conveniently the same day as Tim and Cass's big breakthrough as crime fighters, Barbara and I had decided to move in together permanently. The day after that, I had officially resigned from the Bludhaven Police Department, handing in my badge and gun without a second thought. When I had told her about my sudden unemployment, she at first seemed happy, but had then grown concerned about my other life. My night life.

It had been months since I had actually been seriously active as Nightwing in Bludhaven. When I had initially become a police officer, it had been challenging to balance my two venues of crime fighting. It became even harder when I was promoted and eventually ended up as a homicide detective. The straw that broke the camel's back: Alicia Wallach.

"Let go of my Eggo," she smiled as I sat beside her, placing the tray between us. "Any crumbs in the sheets and you're a dead man." I watched her take the mug and sniff carefully before taking a careful sip, "Mmm, mocha."

"Your favorite."

She nodded and set her mug down on a coaster on the bedside table, "Yep. So what's the occasion?" she asked as she reached for a plate and fork.

"You. For putting up with me."

"Ah, you say it like that's a hard thing to do. Your inability to function in an organized, clean environment is made up by your generosity… and cute face."

I scratched my stubbly jaw line, "I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"

After she swallowed a piece of waffle, Barbara shook her head, "I didn't say that. I said you were cute."

"Ah."

We ate in silence, even the early morning traffic down below was no match for the high floor of the Clocktower. When finished, I took our dishes to the kitchen while she prepared to shower and get ready for the day. To keep me company, I managed to find a rock station on the kitchen radio before washing the dishes. Three songs later, my duty was done and she still wasn't out of the bathroom. I eyed the hall that lead to the den and smiled.

Nothing like Sportscenter at eight in the morning.

Especially with Bruce's housewarming gifts.

The day I had officially moved in with her, Barbara and I had gone over to Bludhaven to bring back what else I needed from the apartment, leaving the bare essentials "just in case." There were three items of controversy that Barbara was unsure of having in her apartment. Item one: a cheesy replication of "Dogs Playing Poker" housed in a custom gilded frame. I was victorious in debating its importance to me when I had explained how I had bought on an antiquing trip she had taken/kidnapped me on two years ago. The second item: the Fooze Ball table. It had taken up residence in my kitchen for well over three years after I had bought it at a police auction nearly fours years earlier. That had taken very little arguing to decide it would be coming with us to Gotham. In fact, I had feared of all night Fooze Tournaments with her…

Item Three: Big White Dog.

It was a four foot tall white plaster replica of a greyhound, its back arched as its head pointed skyward. I had lied, telling her it was an ancient artifact from Egypt in an attempt to make it seem like a valuable addition to our home. She then pointed out the "Made In Taiwan" sticker just to the left of its front paw on the base. Oops.

"It stays, Dick, or you do. One or the other."

Two out of three isn't that bad.

Hours later, we were just about finished moving me in. There had been a spare office room that she rarely used, of which quickly became the entertainment room, home to the Fooze Table, the Poker painting and a few of my other bacholer-esque belongings. I had just prepared to ask her what she wanted to do for dinner when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to reveal a chubby moving man with a clipboard with six men behind him, moving three very large boxes. I signed for the boxes and watched as the men moved them into the den and unpacked them.

Barbara, who had been organizing my clothes in her room came out with a curious look on her face, "Who was at the door?"

I simply smiled and pointed to the surprises before us: a pair of black leather Barco-loungers and a new big screen plasma TV.

At first I thought she would have been pissed, after all she was unaware of such new acquirements. Instead of screaming for the items to be removed, Barbara asked to see the delivery paper. Under the "From" heading, she read, "B. Wayne… Should have known."

As she attacked the instruction manual to the TV, I saw the moving men to the door, tipping them all well for their labor. Before I could close the door, I heard a familiar voice, "Wait, Dick, one more gift!"

I laughed uncontrollably as I watched Mattie, aboard the Big White Dog, being pushed by her father through the door. She had her arms in the air, giggling with delight. I even noticed a smirk on Bruce's lips.

"Hey, Babs," I had called out, "There's one more gift!"

She had turned nearly as white as the Dog at the sight of it. Thankfully, Mattie's youthful presence spared and uncontrollable spurts of foul language, or even worse, unprovoked violence. She forced a smile on her lips and said, "Oh… How thoughtful of you, Bruce…"

Mattie had taken the opportunity of the awkward silence to pipe up, "Barbara, you're so lucky to have a big, pretend doggy… I wish I could have one."

I glanced at Barbara as she replied, "Well, if you like it so much, maybe you should."

Bruce cleared his throat, "No that's quite all right. It means a great deal more to Dick than it does to you, kitten, so we should let him have it. I'm sure he would let you play with it when you visit."

The child sighed, shrugged and then looked up at me, "Sounds good to me," I told her.

It took two days of begging Barbara not to throw it out and a promise to keep it in the Bachelor Den for her to calm down. That and waffles and mocha coffee.

Just as I sat in the right hand Barco-lounger, Rosalita as I had dubbed it, I reclined completely and aimed the remote at the TV, Stevie as I had dubbed it. Barbara couldn't understand my obsession with naming things and quite frankly, neither did I.

Nothing happened.

I smacked the back of the remote a few times and pressed power again. Still nothing. Thanks, Bruce, two-grand for a TV and you couldn't splurge for a working remote as well?

As I got up lazily to manually turn the television on, I heard Barbara coming down the hall. When she was in the doorway, I could smell her perfume. I smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, "Are you ready?"

"For what?" I asked, reaching for the power button.

She sighed, "We were supposed to go over the rest of the living arrangement… things."

"Oh, right," I nodded and gave up hope of seeing how the Knights made out from the prior night's game. "Where were we?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure we got the bathroom and the den. How about the bedroom?"

I wiggled an eyebrow, "I can do that…"

"I'm sure you can. Let's go."

I followed her down the hallway, passed the kitchen, Cass's room and entranceway and into the bedroom we now shared. I had exactly one third of the walk-in closet to my name, as well as four drawers in the main bureau and another two in a bedside table. Aside from that and that I slept on the right side of the bed, I was clueless as to what else was going on.

She paused beside the made bed, "Sheets get changed every Monday morning. The clean blankets and sheets are in the closet down the hall, already set up so that they match. We already went through the clothes thing so… Oh, try not to open the windows without having the screens down, I don't want any pigeons in here like that one time…"

I smirked to myself, recalling the previous summer when I had inadvertently let a small flock of birds into the apartment. The cold look on her face forced my smile to fade away.

An hour and a half later we were in the laundry room and she was showing me the fine points of sorting dirty clothes. My first week here, I had taught Cass about the "sniff" test as an effective and simple mean of deciding when clothes needed to be washed. She had in turn told Barbara, resulting in a minor breaking loose of Hell.

Just as she prepared to show me how to measure the fabric softener, I touched her shoulder. She looked up and asked, "What? Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

I shook my head, "Like you would ever let me wash your clothes."

"Good point. But in the event of an emergency."

"The clothes will stay dirty for a few more hours than necessary," I finished for her.

"Dick."

"Babs," I interrupted.

She raised a brow, feigning anger, "Richard John."

"Barbara Louise," I grinned triumphantly.

Slowly, she set the bottle of fabric softener on the edge of the washer, "Well, all I'm saying is that I'm not going to play Cinderella while you fall asleep watching Baywatch."

I took a step back and crossed my arms over my chest, "That is a very informative program. A documentary if you will on the brave lifeguards of California not to mention stunning medical rescues and."

For the first time that morning she interrupted me, "Whatever you say, Dick. All I'm saying is that you're going to pull your weight around here," she said while making her way back into the hall.

As she passed by, I yelled, "Woman get back here and finish my laundry!"

She proceeded to reach into the hamper beside her before throwing a pair of dirty socks at me. After she left the room and was halfway down the hall, I called out, "Did I not make myself clear!"

When her reply was silent, I grinned. I was so the man of the house. At least in the laundry room of the house…

V


	16. One And Only: XVI

Title: One And Only: XVI

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the (what is now, I guess) the Time Will Tell Series. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: PG 13

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: An ENORMOUS thanks goes out to Chris for this ingenious chapter.

A/N 3: Selina's song in the shower is Learn to Be Lonely off of The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. Why, because it's been stuck in my head for a week so it might as well be stuck in hers as well.

V

As I stepped into the den, I paused to see Barbara sitting in one of the new leather chairs curled up under a pale blue Afghan. In one hand she held a small booklet while in the other she held a large all-in-one remote. On the coffee table, I smiled to see a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of Root Beer.

"Movie night?" I asked as I approached her.

She nodded, "If I can get this remote to work…" she faced the hall entrance from which I had just come from, "Dick see if there's more batteries in the utility drawer!"

"Kay," he called back.

It had been less than a week since he had officially moved into the Clocktower and it had already seemed like an eternity. Having been on his own for several years, I had noticed how far his basic housekeeping and etiquette skills have lagged behind. The very day that we had moved in the rest of his belongings, Barbara had started right in by laying down a few ground rules as to veer him from turning her apartment into a bachelor pad.

The very next morning, Dick had nearly been evicted.

After a shower, he had nonchalantly selected a towel from the middle of the stack in the linen closet. A bright red towel with a pretty black and white pattern. It was a beach towel, one I had seen twice in my life and that I knew Barbara did her best to hide. So by having taken the towel out of its hiding space, Dick had inadvertently let all hell loose, especially when he hung it on the towel rack in between two soft peach colored towels. Sticking out like a sore thumb.

When I had found it, I nearly warned him to fix it, but then again, it would have been far more entertaining to see Barbara's face when she found it. Tim, who had come up for lunch that day, had come out of the bathroom laughing. When Barbara had asked what was so funny, he had replied, "The peach and red towel contrast in there is snazzy, Barb."

Needless to say, Dick promptly returned to using the normal colored towels.

I reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn, "Well, I'm going to get dressed, head out in a bit."

She nodded, "Sounds good…"

As I heard Dick's footsteps draw near, I reached for another handful, nearly dropping a kernel onto the floor. I shrugged, "Close call."

Before either of us could say anything, Dick stepped into the room carrying a small package of batteries and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, "What size batteries did you need? All I could find were double a-AAHHH!"

We both watched in utter horror as Dick's foot caught on the edge of the carpet, causing him to stumble and abruptly drop the plate of cookies. Crumbs flew everywhere upon impact, and the plate chimed musically as it bounced off of the floor. Dick caught himself on the edge of the credenza, managing to keep a strong hold on the little plastic container of batteries.

When I looked over at Barbara, my eyes widened to see that her brow had risen considerably and that her eyes had gone from a cool green to glowing embers of fury. As I slowly backed away, I realized that she had vacuumed that morning…

"Well, I better get going…" I whispered.

As I quickly changed into a club outfit, I could hear Barbara complaining that "for a kid who grew up on the high trapeze, you sure are a klutz!"

And as I slipped out the front door, I caught a glimpse of Dick on his hands and knees, frantically picking up cookie crumbs and muttering to himself, "Too many hours in front of the computer screens… Melted her mind or something…"

It was a little before eight when I got a call from Tim. I had been touring on my cycle, making my way to one of the remaining clubs on our high-priority list. After questioning the perp from last week and linking Black Mask to the missing persons, we had very little time for undercover work. I had done my best to hit a club or two each night, but we had put far more energy into searching the possible storage locations where he could have been keeping the girls until shipping them out.

"I'll be covering the side and rear exits," Tim's voice came over the comm. link, "But I won't be able to hang around long. I would give it a half hour maximum."

"Okay," I replied, "I'll see you later."

A soft grunt came over the line, "…See you then." Although he would never admit it, this was case was really getting to him. Tim never handled the unknown well, and this sure qualified.

Thirty-nine minutes into my first undercover site, I heard a pair of soft voices and felt two pairs of cold eyes. When I turned to order a drink, I caught a glance of them, two late-thirties men, both pathetically trying to fit into a crowd a decade younger with stylish suits and slicked hair.

"Raspberry Lemonade, please," I said while laying a five dollar bill on the bar. While waiting for my drink, I played with a spare napkin and listened intently as their conversation grew.

"What do you mean that ain't good enough? Christ her legs are a mile long…."

"Keep your voice down, Dave. I know she looks the part but she's a foreigner. Hard to sell the customer a product they have in their backyard…"

The bartender returned with a tall glass and when she took the bill I told her to keep the change. She smirked and told me to have a good night.

I sure hoped so…

"Well, ain't much here. 'Sides, when do we have to meet up for the move tonight?"

The thicker of the two glanced at his watch, "About another hour in a half. Might as well get going, haven't even had dinner yet."

After downing three-quarters of the drink, I pushed the glass aside, still all too aware of the intermittent gaze the pair of men directed at me. As they set about moving off of their stools, I hopped off of mine as well, already reaching into my small purse for the tracer pin. I watched as they donned their leather coats and then proceeded to bump into them.

I flashed a smile and said, "Sorry, guys."

Just as I pressed the tracer into Dave's coat sleeve, he smirked and looked down the front of my shirt, "No sweat, hon."

I watched them leave through the front doors from the small crowded area in front of the bathrooms. The minute hand on my watched looped around another three times before I made my own exit, using the back door. Once out in the cool air, I contacted Robin on the comm. link, covering my conversation with a false cell phone, "Hey."

He paused, "Something come up?"

"You could say that. Let's just say our night just began…"

V

"Back up. Why do I always get stuck as back up?" I muttered to myself as adjusted my binoculars.

Barbara's voice sounded in my ear through the comm. link, "Well, you're the one who's been living on Easy Street while we've busting our butts---."

"Watch it woman. So where is everyone? I'm freezing."

She paused before replying, "Patience, young grasshopper."

"Patience my…" I muttered.

After Batgirl had placed a tracer on a suspect, she and Robin had been following the trace while I had been sent out to observe activity at a prospective hideout. It was a small storage subsidiary of a long-since failed exporting business. The building was leased by one M. Querade of which Barbara had quickly deduced as standing for masquerade. Black Mask exercising his limited creativity. In the last six months alone, the location that I was staking out had a consistent pattern of monthly boat arrivals and departures, generally around eleven at night.

Picking up the goods.

I had been suiting up after a peaceful hour of yoga when Barbara had come in to tell me that Tim and Cass had come across a new lead about an actual movement that evening. After donning the rest of my suit, I was deployed to my coordinates to keep an "eye an out" for any suspicious characters. So far nothing but then again it had only been a half of an hour.

After a quick tour of the warehouse and no sign of any human life, I snuck in as ordered, planted a few "eyes" and "ears" for Barbara and snuck back out. It was a well kept empty warehouse, pretty bare on the essentials and didn't show any signs of being a base of operations for a slave ring.

As I shifted my weight slightly to prevent cramping in my legs, the corner of my eye caught on something big and yellow. By the time I looked up, the vehicle had passed down the next street and out of view. I knew of a bussing program that delivered winos and derelicts to the docks at night so that they could keep the downtown of Gotham more aesthetically appealing.

"Nightwing?" a familiar voice asked over the comm. link that was much darker than normal.

"Robin, "I haven't seen much yet, but I've got my eyes open."

"Batgirl and I are en route, should be there in five minutes."

I paused, "Thought you were following the Luigi."

"It's Mario, first of all, and secondly they're heading in your direction. Sit tight," he said before closing the connection.

As I ran a gloved hand through my hair, I muttered, "Someone's been hanging out with the Boss Man too long."

"What makes you say that?" a familiar voice asked from behind that was just as dark as it had been when I was a kid.

I hid my surprise by adjusting my binoculars before standing to face him. "Most people say hello."

Batman looked passed me and down below at the warehouse. I read the unasked question on his face and answered, "Nothing yet. Robin and Batgirl are on their way… but you probably already know that."

He made a soft sound of acknowledgement.

As a child, stakeouts were my Achilles' heel. Not only was I ten years old, but I had never been one to bottle my energy long enough to sit through dinner let alone a few hours behind a pair of binoculars. Batman was well aware of my inability to sit still but had never really seemed to care.

"Patience, Dick," he had always reminded me, "Patience is a virtue."

I thought of how Barbara had just reminded me to be patient and it brought a smile to my lips. Before the Joker had taken away the use of her legs, I knew for a fact that she could hardly keep her foot from tapping for more than ten minutes.

It was just my luck that my solitude was broken, the action began. We stood in the shadows together, watching silently as car after car pulled into the empty warehouse. Generally, there were only two men in the vehicle, occasionally three. Marios or whatever. Not a single sign of a girl though. I was about to ask Batman if this was the wrong place, if this was just a drug deal, but he was gone.

"Son of a bitch, "I muttered while looking around the roof top. He did it to me?

"Pretty harsh language, there," Barbara's voice came in my ear.

"Yeah," I replied, "Too many years on the beat, babe."

"Anyway, the two amigos should be there any minute."

I paused before asking, "Anything coming up on the cameras? A few cars pulled in through the northwest entrance."

"No," she replied, "They parked, got out and starting chitchatting with one another. Nothing even useful, it's all baseball banter…"

"You know those bottom feeding criminals… Deep down they're just die hard baseball fans that didn't get enough hugs when they were younger." She stifled a laugh as I spotted the edge of a yellow cape on the other end of the roof I was standing on. "Well they're here, better go play catch up."

"Play nice."

After she closed the connection I began walking over, "Let the games begin."

V

For years I had thought of myself as sitting on the sidelines after my paralysis. As my role as Oracle developed and become pertinent to the Batman's war on crime, that feeling had all but dissolved. For some unknown reason, as I sat amidst my network system, cataloging video and audio feed from the M. Querade warehouse, I had never felt more alone…

"Batgirl?"

Two clicks replied which I translated as "I'm fine".

Being the stealthiest of the group, Batgirl entered the warehouse in order to get a closer look than what the cameras could offer. And unless absolutely necessary, she wasn't to utter a word. When Robin was going over this with her, I had heard her over the comm. link, "Just like old times."

I was checking in with her every five minutes. A little extreme but with the odds not being in our favor, I knew it was better to err on the side of caution. However, I left it up to Robin and Nightwing, you were working they way around the outside to contact me at their leisure.

Three out of four…

Batman had been avoiding me most of the night. His comm. link was sporadically on and only for a minute or two at most. Also, he had deactivated the tracer, a big sign that he was not in a good mood and that he certainly didn't want to be found. Which was fairly unlike him when something of this nature was going down in his city.

After a sip of green tea, I went back to watching the video feed. There were five cameras in place and none of them were showing anything of interest I had hoped for Tim and Cassandra's sakes that it would end tonight, but things weren't looking to go that way. Then again, appearances weren't everything.

After checking in with Batgirl six times, she finally had something for me. Her Morse code wasn't the best, but I could still get it, 'Found metal door. Bolted. Locked. Sounds behind it.'

"Might be where they are keeping the girls. Is there anyway else in?"

Two clicks. No.

"Tag it. I'll tell Robin."

One click. Okay.

I switched over to Robin's frequency, "We may have something. Heavy door that's locked and dead bolted. Batgirl says she can hear voices behind the door."

"It's a started. Where is the room?"

I waited a second for the tracer she had placed to become recognized by the system. "South west corner," I answered while bringing up the last recorded blueprints of the warehouse, "Seems as if that's one of the bigger storage rooms."

"Hm. How's the activity in the other areas?" he asked.

I glanced at the monitors before answering, "Not as much conversation. They all seem to be standing around and waiting."

"For Black Mask," Robin added. There was a long pause before he said, "I don't want to wait any longer. Tell Batgirl we're coming in."

"Copy that."

After I relayed the message to Batgirl, she responded in Morse that she had acknowledged and would be waiting for them before she moved on. I always found that as being the difference between us, for where she would refuse to deny orders, I would have been less diligent and would have acted on my own, despite the consequences. Hence why Batman and I had butted heads constantly while I had been wearing the mask.

On the third camera I noticed a flash of movement and then another. The boys were in and quickly heading in Batgirl's direction. I enlarged the screen that displayed the tracers in their suits as well as that of the man Batgirl had tagged at the club. Just as the three of them converged in front the room in the southwest corner, the Mario and his partner appeared to enter the building, on the tracer screen ad on one of the cameras. Like the others, they were big and strong but not outwardly menacing. After all, it was harder to kidnap a girl that was scared of you from first sight.

As I watched the latest arrivals join the group, I heard Robin's voice, "There's no way to get through this door without causing a commotion. How many men are on location?"

I did a quick count, "Almost sixty. All packing one form of nasty weaponry or another."

He paused, conferred with Nightwing briefly before responding, "We can't risk that…"

I noticed as a dark sedan approached from the east, slowly pulling into the warehouse. The next camera showed the car parking and the passenger stepping out, straightening his suit coat before donning a black fedora.

"Stay on your toes, boys, the Sionis just arrived."

Nightwing's voice came over my speakers, "Fear not, dear maiden, we hath hatched a plan."

Looking at the tracer display, I asked, "Why are you and Robin running towards the massive group of armed criminals?"

"Start a commotion over here and---."

"Dick, you're not ready for this kind of action," I growled, "You've hardly done anything in a year, at least not like this."

"Well, what kind of a role model would I be to thousands of Wingster fans if I bailed out on my buddy Robin? It'll be fine, O. Although you might want to call up the big guy, let him know what we're up to."

I sighed and muttered, "Would if I could."

"Ah, is he incommunicado?"

"Isn't he always?" I said softly.

"Touché," he replied, "As much as I would love to keep chatting with you, I've got some bad guys to beat up."

As I often did, I sighed as he closed the connection. Having a voice in your ear was a distraction in any scenario, but could be a fatal one when going up against that strong of an opposition. But where I was cut out with sound, I had enough visuals to last me a lifetime. The massive group that had been lounging around had reduced by half. The thirty that were left were in smaller group and were beginning to pan out throughout the building. Guard detail. All major entrances had four men standing by as well as major corridors in the warehouse itself. Even with all of the cameras Nightwing had set up, I still could not accommodate the remaining thirty men.

Just as I was about to break in and inform they boys of the change of layout, I spotted Nightwing's sleek form in the shadows of the third camera. It panned passed him and I paused it as it came over a small group of men, smoking and chatting softly. The dim hallway offered excellent cover for Nightwing as he leapt forward, knocking the group down with one tackle.

I watched as the men struggled to their feet, reaching for their weapons. Two bolos later, the men were snuggly wrapped up in Kevlar enforced line and falling over one another. With a few gas pellets, Nightwing finished them off with a smile as the men's eyes rolled slightly before closing.

Four down…

As Nightwing progressed through the halls, locating and putting down any unfriendly foes, I searched on another set of monitors for Robin. He wasn't registering on any of the cameras, which was either his good concealment skills at work or…

A flash of activity in the main room caught my eye. One of the larger groups, ten from my count, had remained in the larger room while the others had moved out to their respective stations. Black Mask had been one of the ten and as I did a quick count, I couldn't see him anywhere. While panning with the other cameras, Nightwing popped up on an exterior camera as he took out a group of lookouts. One perp got a lucky shot and I smirked to watch my beau retaliate with a puzzled look on his face.

Once had bound his challengers, I felt it was safe to contact him, "Nightwing, you might want to get back to the main room, something's got everyone antsy and Black Mask is missing---."

"I know."

"What do you mean you know?"

He paused, "All part of the plan, O, trust us."

When his voice had that clever, sneaky quality to it, I trusted him only as far as I could throw him. "What part of the plan has you outside talking to me and Robin inside fighting for his life?"

"Part B I think."

"Richard!"

He gulped audibly, "Just keep an eye on him and tell me when it gets out a hand."

Not in the mood to try and understand his logic, I went back to watching the main room. The nine figures had been reduced to five as four laid sprawled on the ground semi-conscious. Robin, armed with his bo staff, was quickly working his way through the group. I could tell by the look on his face that he was holding back as much of his anger as possible. It would be so easy to add an extra hit or one more bone than necessary simply because of what the men were guilty of.

Bruce often took on that look…

I cringed when a pair of men came up behind Robin and hit him in the back of the head with a wrench. He fell to his knees, the bo staff slipping out of his fingers and teetering to the floor. the two men who had snuck up on him quickly took a hold of his arms and lifted him up as another man removed his utility belt. Far too many had been victim to the countless nasties that rested within that belt.

As a shorter man approached Robin, I gasped to see him reaching for his mask. Before I could call for Dick, I saw Sionis approach and promptly deck the one who had attempted to unmask Robin. Close call. As Sionis had his men bind Robin's arms, I made a call to Nightwing, "They have Robin."

"… Ah, that's not part of the plan. You get a hold of you know who?"

"No," I glanced at the tracer display, "Batgirl still tucked away in the vent above the storage room but there's no sign of him."

"Hunh. Well, guess I better save his red robin rump… Make you sure you tape SNL, it's going to be a long night."

V

We had no way into the storage room to free the captives.

I had no idea where Batman, Nigthwing, or Batgirl were.

I was concussed and being held captive by Black Mask.

So far so good.

I let my eyes droop as two bouncer-esque men held me up by the arm pits. Sionis and one of his higher ups were conversing a few yards away, just within earshot.

The assistant spoke, "Why can't we do away with him?"

Sionis growled lowly as he grabbed the man's coat collar, "If that one is here, he's not far behind. You want to piss the Bat off, do it on your own time, not mine."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do with him?"

Sionis glanced over his shoulder at me, "We teach him a lesson." He crouched suddenly and picked up a Batarang that I had used to knock out one of his flunkies. My eyes trailed him as he stood and approached a kerosene heater that had been used as a pathetic attempt to keep the occupants warm. He set half of the metal piece into the heater and then turned back, "You and your mentor are always sticking your noses into my business."

"Sounds like a personal problem," I growled.

He snickered to himself as he removed the metal piece and held in front of him. It glowed softly, reflecting off of the dark wooden mask and setting off slight flickers of brightness in his eyes. "No point in clipping your wings… You are member of his cult, training under him, working for him and perhaps you even share his ridiculous beliefs that this city will one day be a good and decent place to live…"

I slipped a knife from my glove and began nicking at the ropes around my wrists. When the criminals went into their monologue nonsense, it was an opportune time to start working on an escape. To keep him distracted, I locked my eyes with his.

"I think it's time to change your loyalty. He's old and weak, and his cause is hopeless. I however, have plenty of years to spare and a legion of followers to a worthy cause. I think it's time that one of his becomes one of ours."

There was barely six inches between us when he finally stopped. Sionis raised the Batarang between our faces and his eyes narrowed behind the mask. "Hold him still boys."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

As I felt two pairs of iron arms tighten their hold on me, I relaxed slightly and held my ground. I even managed to hide my smirk when I saw Batgirl's shadow cross into my line of sight.

While Sionis made the attempt to slash at my face, I ducked and lurched backwards, forcing the two dumbbells towards their precious leader. One of them howled as the hot Batarang seared their arm, resulting in a loosened hold on me. I had cut at most of the ropes and with the new freedom; I was able to pull hard enough to snap them off. Before I could right myself, Sionis was already lunging and stabbing at me, rage empowering his actions.

Unfortunately, when angry, people tended to be careless. And off balance.

I landed a roundhouse to his side and completed a full turn before hooking him in the neck. Before he fell to the ground, I was already reaching for my utility belt and calling out to Batgirl. She had managed to take out six of the nine men on her own. That left Black Mask, who was on the ground gasping for breath and the remaining three…

"All taken care of, pal," I heard Nightwing boast as he knocked the last one out.

We closed in on Sionis after bounding the moaning mooks. He had burned himself on the Batarang, the flesh of his hand bright red as it clenched painfully. The other hand held onto a small radio that I hadn't seen. Just as I was about to kick it out of his hands, he rasped, "Drive them into the river."

Them. The girls.

"Oracle, What's the status outside!" I snapped as I ran towards the warehouse exit.

"No through traffic, not even foot traffic---."

A sudden crash interrupted her and it took a second for me to realize what it was as a bus crashed through the loading entrance of the warehouse's rear. As I jumped back to avoid being hit, I looked up to see countless young faces and heard please for help. A bus, they were going to load them onto the boat in a bus… How could I have missed that? Why didn't I know?

No time for that, I told myself.

"What was that?" Oracle's voice came loudly in my ear.

"Black Mask's last card," I muttered.

"EMS and police units are en route… ETA fifteen minutes."

As I told her to put a rush on it, I began running towards the bus, with Nightwing and Batgirl right behind me. A grapple would do nothing, hell; ten grapples wouldn't even have an adverse affect. Nightwing barked form behind me, "Blow the tires?"

"There's no time!" I cried back as the driver bailed from the bus, rolling upon impact with the ground.

I leapt over his form and watched in horror as the bus veered off the edge of the dock and crashed into the water. Without hesitating, I ripped off my cape and dove into the water a few yards away from the now vertical bus. The screams were louder and joined by panicked pounding on the windows. I inserted my rebreather into my mouth and swam quickly towards the emergency exit door on the side of the bus. It was just under the surface of the water, making it nearly impossible to pull it outwards. I pulled a Batarang from my belt, cut a circle into the glass and promptly kicked in the window. While water rushed in hands and faces rushed towards me.

After getting a few of the girls moving out that door, I noticed Batgirl and Nightwing had joined me and were working on opening the other emergency exits. There was no way of knowing how many girls were inside unless…

I swam down to the open entrance door at the front of the bus and slipped inside. Most of the passengers were at the rear of the bus, making their way out through the emergency exits. Most of them…

A pair of young women were in the second seat behind that of the driver's slumped, eyes closed, in their seat. I swam up, found weak pulses on both of them before giving them both of my rebreathers. As I worked at cutting their seat belts, I alternated chest compressions on both of them. Once freed, I grabbed both of them and swam to the rear of the bus.

The water couldn't have been more than forty degrees and it sapped the energy I had left quickly and swimming with two limp bodies didn't help any. With every, kick, I reminded myself that I was that much closer to the surface. That much closer to air and a warm blanket.

By the time we had reached the rear exit, the bus was completely submerged. We slipped through the door just before the force of the water pushed it closed. I kept looking up as I swam, much as a runner focuses in on the finish line.

The surface was chaos as the girls frantically swam towards the docks. After a few gulps of air, I treaded water long enough to find the same weak pulses on my two new friends. It took a while to hear Nightwing calling my name over the splashing water and cries for help. I looked up and found that he and Batgirl had thrown down a few emergency rope ladders and were helping the girls up onto land.

Almost there…

I tried to call back to him but I just couldn't get my mouth to work.

I swam in the direction of the ladders, the weight of the two girls doubling by the second. When I approached the base of the ladders, Nightwing dove in next to me and took one of the girls over his shoulder, "Hey, hero, don't hog all the damsels in distress."

"F-f-funny," I managed.

It was another half hour before all of the girls were safe on the dock. While we had been in the water freeing them from their water coffin, the ambulances and police units had arrived and had gone to work helping those that were already on the ground and locking up those who had been party to putting them in the water.

And concealment be damned, I took a big green blanket from an EMT.

V

"Only five stitches, Master Timothy, very impressive."

"Thanks Al," he replied.

As I snipped the end of the suture, I said, "Now rest here for a moment, I'll need to dress that."

The medical bay was fairly well sized for a patient or even two, but with three shivering, bruised and exhausted patients, it felt a bit crowded. Aside from slight cases of hypothermia, each had only a few selected bruises and cuts, only Master Timothy's requiring suturing. And in light of the scenario that had been described to me, it was astonishing that they were alive let alone unscathed.

They had pulled into the cave's entrance on their respected motorcycles, one after another. I had also expected the low growl of Master Bruce's mode of transportation but had been puzzled when it never came. Surely he had been in the middle of this catastrophic event…

As I retrieved gauze and adhesive tape from the cabinet, I heard Master Dick sigh, "You guys play too rough. Maybe I should go back to Bludhaven."

"Wimp," Miss Cassandra replied as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Upon arriving, I had them each take a hot shower to help raise their body temperatures and to don dry clothing before wrapping up in thermal blankets. After distributing warm drinks, I had ascertained that their injuries were minor and nothing that a good night's sleep would not fix.

While dressing the back of Master Timothy's head, I spoke, "Guest rooms on the second floor are turned out and ready whenever you are. If there's nothing else, I would hope to see you all upstairs shortly."

Master Dick stood and raised his brow, "Then again, you can't get those Alfred approved military corners on a bed sheet in Bludhaven…"

As they rose and made their way to the stairs, I called Master Timothy aside, "A tetanus booster, sir. As a precaution."

He nodded and dropped the blanket before raising his sleeve. I swabbed the area before injecting the serum, "There you are, sir."

"Thanks Alfred," he said quietly. A quick look at him and he could have been any normal college student that was exhausted from a long weekend out on the town or up all night writing a last minute paper. If only that were so.

"Have you heard form Bruce at all?" he asked suddenly as he pulled the blanket up over his shoulders.

I paused as I disposed the needle and syringe, "I am afraid not, sir."

Master Timothy nodded slowly, "Didn't think so."

I reached out and touched his upper arm, "Tim… Your bravery and valor tonight… Master Bruce must be very proud of you, young sir."

He nodded again and then turned away to hide the disappointment on his face from me. Master Dick and even Miss Cassandra understood their personal accomplishments and although Master Bruce's appreciation was valuable to them, they did not rely on it. Over the years, I have watched Master Timothy become dependent on his mentor's gratitude, of which was unfortunately rarely expressed.

"Well, I'm sure it will be quite some time before he is home. Perhaps it would be better to talk things over with him in the morning," I suggested as I let my hand return to my side.

"Perhaps. Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Master Timothy."

I busied myself with cleaning up the medical bay and then the costume vault. As the roar of the Batmobile echoed in the cavern, I checked my pocket watch and noted that it was half past two. An early night for the caped crusader. I waited for the engine to cut before revealing my presence.

"Good morning, Master Bruce."

He stood, unmasked in front of the massive computer display that he had spent years in facing. As he rested his forearms against the chair, I noticed that he was looking down at his hands. The same exhaustion I had noticed in Master Timothy's young form was present in Master Bruce's.

"Sir?"

He looked over at me before standing up straight, "How are they?"

"They fared quite well, sir. No major injuries to report. All are taking a well deserved sleep in the guest rooms, sir."

After a slow nod, Master Bruce spoke, "Good."

Silence fell between us, one in which I would have usually filled with prying banter. But the look on my face discouraged such an act. Instead, I asked, "Is there anything I can get you, sir?"

"No, no Alfred, you've done enough tonight," he said as he walked towards me. I stepped aside and let him into the costume vault.

"Very well then. Good night, Master Bruce."

"Night…" he muttered.

As I climbed the granite steps, I reminded myself that it was better to confront things in the morning and not when Master Bruce had so many of his weapons in arm's reach. No doubt his charges would also have a few questions for him and surely he would pose his own inquiries.

Instead of progressing to the third floor to inform Ms. Selina that her husband had returned, I proceeded to my quarters. Dawn was a good two hours away and I would be an old fool to say I as well, couldn't use a well deserved sleep.

V

I woke to the sound of Selina singing. Loudly.

Squinting to fight off the sunlight, I glanced at the bedside clock to see that it was nearly nine in the morning. Isis was sleeping in a ball on Selina's pillow and when I pushed the blankets off of me she raised her head slightly and peered at me with one eye.

When I sat up in bed and ran a hand through my hair, I heard her, "Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness… Learn to be lonely… Learn to find your way in darkness… Who will be there for you, comfort and care for you, learn to be lonely. Learn to be your one companion." I looked over to see the bathroom door was ajar, letting out light and steam.

With no hopes of falling asleep, I rose and walked towards the bathroom as Selina continued singing, "Ever dreamed out in the world, there are arms to hold you. You've always known, your heart was on its own. So laugh in your loneliness, child of the wilderness. Learn to be lone---," she suddenly stopped and shut the water off.

When I passed through the bathroom door, she stuck an arm through the partially opened glass door of the shower, "Morning."

I nodded and went to the sink to brush my teeth and wet down my hair. I had showered before coming upstairs last night and my hair had dried chaotically.

"Interesting story on the news this morning. Something about a bust on a slave trade ring. All criminals are in custody and no innocents injured. Mysterious masked vigilantes suspected in participating in the rescue too." Her arm snaked out again and retrieved a towel before slipping back inside, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

I ignored her as she stepped out of the shower and approached me. Her reflection in the mirror was far too cheery for nine in the morning. Selina paused beside me and cleared her throat. I sighed and took a side step to allow her access to the sink. We had a full sized bathroom with two sinks and a massive counter in front of an expansive mirror. And no matter what, she had to make use of whatever sink I was using.

"So how did it go?" she asked, her tone a bit more serious.

"Fine I guess."

"You guess? Detectives don't guess," she remarked as she spread a dollop of toothpaste on her toothbrush.

As she began cleaning her teeth, I said, "I wouldn't know. I wasn't there."

"Whuh?" she said through a mouth full of foam.

I turned and leaned against the counter's edge, "I wasn't there."

Selina spat and rinsed her mouth out, "What do you mean you weren't there? Biggest case of the year, master criminals, dozens of flunkies with sub-machine guns and hostages... And you weren't in the middle of it all?" She pressed her palm against my brow, "You must be ill."

I brushed her hand away and walked towards the door.

"Come on, Bruce… You have to admit it's unlike you to take the backseat on things like this."

"I didn't. It was Tim's case, it was his to handle. He had things under control."

She followed me into the bedroom, "I'm not saying I don't agree with you. Tim did a bang up job. It's just surprising to not see…"

I turned to face her, doing my best to keep my face neutral, "To not see what?"

She shrugged and looked up at me, "For once, to not see you risking life and limb. Not that I like seeing Tim or Cass or Dick recklessly crusading around town."

As much as I wanted to be angry at her for pointing out so simple of a fact, I couldn't be. It was Tim's case and he pulled through with it just as I had on thousands of others. Although it had been difficult at first, I had taken a smaller role and had allowed them to figure it out on their own. If things had taken a turn for a worse, I would have had to step in and take charge, but they hadn't…

"Were we still going to the park this afternoon?" she asked suddenly as she pilfered through the closet.

"Doesn't matter."

"Well, it doesn't matter to me. It does matter to a certain curly haired cutie down the hall."

I nodded slowly as I looked over at her. She was holding a lavender silk spring dress up to her form and inspecting it in the mirror. When she caught my gaze, she arched her brows and mock-glared at me, similarly to when I had caught her cleaning out a penthouse safe decades ago.

A lifetime ago.

"Well," Selina said, "Since young Timothy did such a marvelous job, I think congratulations are in order. And not the awkward pat on the shoulder and grunt that you seem to think expresses your feelings oh so well."

"Yes, dear."

I donned jeans and a dark turtleneck before leaving the room. Mattie was up already, bed made and stuffed animals carefully aligned in front of her pillows. On the ground floor, I heard her giggling in the den. I had expected her to be playing with Taffy or even one of her dolls. What I hadn't expected was Mattie sitting across from Tim on the floor, playing a game of checkers.

The very second I paused at the door, Mattie jumped up and ran over to me, "Daddy!"

"Good morning, kitten. When did you get up?"

She shrugged as she hugged my legs. A moment later, her hand ensnared my thumb and she dragged me over to sit with her and Tim. Opting for the couch, I sat behind Mattie and looked down at the game board, "Close match."

Tim smirked, "I have the disadvantage. I haven't played it in ten years."

"Dick says that if you snooze you lose," Mattie said as she moved her red checker forward.

I smiled slightly and Tim laughed out loud, "I guess he's right."

I watched as they finished the game, Mattie winning by a long shot. My daughter asked where her mother was and I answered, "Up staires getting dressed," I tugged at the sleeve of her pajama shirt, "Why don't you go up and pick out some clothes. You still wanted to go to the park?"

Her blue eyes widened, "Yeah!" Before I could say another word, she had turned and skipped out of the room and down the hall.

"Too much energy for this early in the morning," Tim commented as he began collecting the checker pieces.

I nodded, "She gets it from her mother."

When he looked up at me, he was doing his best to hide a smile. Once the game was safely in its box, Tim stood and put it in the credenza in the back of the room. I stood as well and took a step in his direction, "Listen, Tim… I wanted to…"

He turned and faced me, making it that much harder.

"I wanted to congratulate you. And Cassandra. You did a good job last night. Over the last few weeks even…"

He nodded and kept looking at me, "Thanks Bruce. Not like it was hard though. Only saving thirty some odd girls from a bus that was sinking into Gotham Harbor. Piece of cake."

"Did someone say cake?" Dick's voice asked from the hallway.

We looked over to watch him enter the room. I cleared my throat, "Don't you have your own home?"

He shrugged as he approached us, "Yeah, but who am I to refuse Alfred's raspberry pancakes?"

"Of which are ready for you, Master Dick," Alfred announced from the doorway.

I watched as the two boys followed Alfred out into the hallway. Just as I was about to join them, I saw Tim pause and look back at me with a slight smile on his face.

… Batman needs a Robin….

That he does.

V


	17. One And Only: XVII

Title: One And Only: XVII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the (what is now, I guess) the Time Will Tell Series. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: PG 13

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Happy Mum Day ;)

A/N 3: Bruce's stance on the kindergarten graduation reflects that of Bob Parr's in The Incredibles. The cop stories between Jim and Dick reflect those seen in David Simon's A Year on the Killing Streets. Dick's allergy comment is that of Seth Cowen's on The OC and his computer arch rival Doctor Dangerous is from Will & Grace.

A/N 4: Finally posted… School's out for the summer and we all know what that means… I'll be ficcin' like a crazy person who has misplaced her Lithium.

V

"Happy Mother's Day, Leslie."

"Oh, Alfred…" I did my best to control the grin as it spread over my lips.

He had invited me up for breakfast the night before, doing his best to act coy in a polite manner by concealing his intentions. I had arrived ten minutes earlier than he had told me and parked near a meticulously groomed flowerbed to the left of the stone steps leading to the front door. Despite the fact that it was a little before eight in the morning, the air was well on its way to the eighty-five high for the afternoon.

It had been unclear as to whether or not the other residents of Wayne Manor were going to be in attendance. As I walked the silent halls of the house, I decided that it was going to be a breakfast for two.

I had found him on the terrace that faced the rear of the property pouring fresh squeezed orange juice into a pair of glasses. I paused at the doorway and followed Alfred with my eyes as he refolded the napkins at both of the place settings before checking his pocket watch.

"Boo," I grinned when he turned to face me.

"Ah, I believe I said eight o clock," he smirked as he pulled out my chair.

As I took a seat, I looked up at him, "That you did."

Before he had taken his own seat, he slipped over a small robin egg blue box tied with matching ribbon. I took it with a slight smile and had watched as he sat down across from me.

Oh, Alfred…

We rarely exchanged gifts in a material sense. Each other's company and quiet weekend retreats were more than enough to keep one another happy. Bruce never understood that concept as whenever he offered me lavish gifts, I would turn around and donate them to charity before he could even blink.

I set the box aside and raised my orange juice and smiled to see Alfred do the same. "What do we toast to?" I asked softly.

His brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out, "To you, my dear."

I shook my head, "To us."

"Very well, then," he replied, "To us."

The chime of our glasses clinking together seemed remarkably loud in the quiet morning air. I sipped carefully and then set my glass down before placing the napkin over my lap.

"This is perfect."

"Not quite," he commented, "I had made an effort to arrange a pair of morning doves to entertain us, but unfortunately they had prior obligations."

I laughed out loud. Although on the outside Alfred appeared modest and polite, inside was an amusing counterpart that so very few saw. I counted myself lucky for appreciating his dry humor. Almost as much as I cherished his compassion for his family. One of my earliest memories of meeting him was at a social function at Wayne Manor. He had looked so nervous, almost terrified as he attempted to manage the wait staff and caterers of the event. He barked orders and directed wine cases and entrée carriers as if the future of the world relied on it. Later, after the guests had departed, I had gone up to check on Bruce, who couldn't have been older than Mattie at the time. And there, still dressed in his formal attire, was Alfred, sitting on the edge of Bruce's bed talking ever so gently to the tired little boy.

We ate in near silence, as we commonly did. In fact, it wasn't until half past eight, after the crepes and banana bread French toast were long gone, that I asked, "Letting them sleep late?"

After wiping his mouth, Alfred nodded and replied, "A Mother's Day gift to Ms. Selina."

"How thoughtful. They have plans for the day?"

"Breakfast at the Blanchard, some shopping I believe and then a picnic at the Preserve this afternoon."

I nodded as selected strawberry from a small fruit tray, "Busy day. That leaves you here, all day, by yourself?"

"A premature Father's Day gift for me," he smirked.

I giggled softly and ate the strawberry. Just as I was about to ask if he would like company for the day, I heard footsteps approaching slowly. We both looked to see Bruce walking down the corridor towards us, dressed in dark slacks and a slate blue button down shirt with the top three buttons undone. He paused at the doorway, looked at both of us and then asked, "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," I answered first.

Bruce stepped out onto the terrace and checked his watch in order to avoid my gaze, "We'll be heading out shortly… And we'll probably go out for dinner so we won't be back until after seven."

"Very well, sir," he said with a curt nod.

He went to turn back inside but stopped in his tracks, "Oh, and if Melinda calls about Monday's meeting, tell her I'm---."

"Off gallivanting amidst the carnivorous felines?" he finished.

"I was going to say shopping for shoes with Selina but that would work too." He looked over at me and nodded slightly before passing through the door and walking away.

He had dropped by the clinic a little after midnight with a bouquet of lilacs. The sweet scent of the flowers had been the first indicator that he was in the room. He had stayed for exactly five minutes before slipping back out the window into the night. That was after I stood from my chair and hugged him. For four and a half minutes.

I had expected to see Selina and Mattie make their way down the hall, but then realized that if Bruce was ready to head out for the day, he wasn't about to entice distraction by telling the two ladies of his life that I was out back dining with Alfred. Nevertheless, I would surely see the child before her fast approaching kindergarten graduation. I had been up to the Manor for dinner the evening Selina had invited me to the ceremony. Bruce had sighed and muttered while picking at his steak, "It's not a graduation, she's moving from kindergarten to the first grade."

Selina had sighed and reminded him that it was a special celebratory event that commemorated their daughter's accomplishments.

He had rolled his eyes before continuing, "It's not a celebration, it's psychotic… They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity." And to think that at the beginning of the school year, he could hardly go through the day without calling the school to make sure she wasn't in the nurse's office…

"Something humorous?" I heard Alfred's voice.

I looked up and shook my head, "Oh, nothing," I picked up the small box and shook it gently, of which yielded no sound. "I wonder what it could be…"

I carefully undid the bow and removed the top of the small box. As I pulled back the white tissue paper, I smiled at the sight of a pair of Gotham Opera House tickets. The seats were first ring center seats for that evening's performance of The Little Prince.

"And just how did you manage to obtain these?" I asked while waving the tickets.

Alfred paused as he folded his napkin and laid it on the table. "Let us say that Master Bruce is not the only one with secrets in this household."

V

Jab, hook, uppercut.

"I'm starving…"

Double jab, left and right hook, roundhouse.

"Do you know the number to the Great Wall…. I'd kill for some super sized wontons."

Knee stab, double hook, left and right jab, knee stab.

"Or some chicken lo mien. Or both."

I stepped back from Dick and wiped sweat off of my brow with the back of my hand. When I didn't resume striking the pad, he peered out from behind it, "What?"

"Nothing…" I frowned slightly while he set the pad down on the ground. I waited a minute and then smirked, "It's just that… now I'm hungry."

He glanced at the watch on the wall and shrugged, well, it's almost eleven. That's nearly two hours since breakfast… Which makes this either brunch or early lunch… I think there's like fifteen minute difference between the two…" Dick scratched his head and shrugged before walking into the hall.

It had been four weeks since the missing persons case had come to a close. The thugs that had sought and kidnapped the girls were in Blackgate awaiting their trial and eight of them have already began making pleas to make a deal with the District Attorney to rat out Black Mask. One even claimed he had kept records of nights and clubs he had gone to in order to hopefully get reimbursed for the mileage. So much for honor among thieves…

"Hey, Timbo, what do you want?" Dick called from down the hall.

I picked my tee shirt up off of a rolled mat and donned it as I tracked him down in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, eyes locked onto a take out menu. I gave him my order and he nodded, "Excellent choice, Timmy-san. Sweet and sour chicken make you grow strong and wise."

I poured myself a glass of water while he called in the order. Just as he hung up the phone, Barbara entered the kitchen, "Hey, guys, Dad's coming over from the deli, do you want anything?"

I opened my mouth to say that we had our lunch set but Dick spoke first, "That would be great… What do you say, Tim, Triple Decker Clubs on wheat?"

"Sounds good, I'm starving."

I had seen James Gordon twice since his official retirement, which coincidentally was the day after we busted Black Mask. A week later, Wayne Enterprises fit the bill for a commemoration ceremony, which as the intoxication level of the attendants rose the night turned from a quiet banquet into a roast for Gordon. I had made a brief appearance in between the end of my night class and the beginning of patrols. He had seemed just the same as he had always been, if not happier. It was difficult to picture the city without him there in the heat of things.

He had always been there…

The only other time I had seen him as ex-Commissioner had been two weeks later. On a Sunday morning, Cass and I had been jogging down County Route 32, which cradles the Bristol Country Club Golf Course. We had been three miles into it when she stopped suddenly and started laughing uncontrollably. I stopped as well and asked her what was wrong. She had simply pointed at the golf course before doubling over with giggles. Bruce Wayne and James Gordon clad in khakis and polo shirts, driving towards the ninth hole in a golf cart. Both wore sunglasses and content smiles.

We laughed for the rest of the run.

What wasn't funny was the new commissioner.

Her name was Erin Kelsey, a recruit from Los Angeles Police Department. She was barely taller than Cass with strawberry blonde hair clipped short and neat. From what I had seen, she favored dark pants suits and frowning. And she drank herbal tea. But the real kick in the pants was that she loathed vigilantes, thought that they were for the Old West, not "her" city. So far, Batman had been the only one to speak with her, of which had been a ranged by Gordon as a way of passing the torch, so to speak.

Apparently, she told Batman, flat out to his face, that she wanted no dealings with him. As long as he stayed out of her way, she would do her best to stay out of his. I felt bad for Gordon, being stuck between those two… Talk about a rock and a hard place.

While waiting for lunch, I showered quickly and changed into jeans and green tee shirt with beige lettering across the chest: J and J's Pool Hall, Shoot to Score. My friend Dave and I had won a double tournament there a few months back and every time I walked into the place, they gave us free drinks. Not that I went that often. During my Organizational Development class the other day, I had worked backwards through my date book and found that it had been almost three months since I had gone out for the purpose of going out. The sad part was that it didn't really bother me.

In order to put an end to my fast on fun, I had asked Cass to go see a movie and get some pizza the next night before patrols. She had grinned and asked if we could see the new one with Orlando Bloom and I rolled my eyes.

Then she hit me.

Then I hit her back.

Ah, love…

As I stepped out of the guest bathroom, I first heard soft voices in the dining room. Then I smelt the sweet mixture of Chinese and deli takeout. I walked into the room to see Dick, Barbara and Jim all seated and well into their meals.

And Jim was halfway through a story.

"…You shoot a guy, hey. You shoot two guys, well, it is Gotham. You shoot three guys and it's time to admit you have a problem," he finished with a forced stone face.

Barbara smirked as she laughed quietly while Dick nearly choked on his soda. "It's true though, the multiple shootings get bigger and bigger… Last summer, I had one guy with one gun take out thirteen people… and he said it was self defense but I don't see how a Laundromat full of people is that threatening…"

"When was the last time you've been to a Laundromat?" Barbara asked before taking a bite out of her BLT.

He shrugged, "There's one next to that coffee shop I always go to…" he looked up and smiled, "Hey, thought you drowned or something."

"Very funny," I said. He had picked on me several times over the last few weeks about diving into the harbor. I had even gone swimming down at the gym and he had showed up with a pair of arm floaties.

As I sat down and selected a white cardboard carton and a pair of chopsticks, Jim looked over at me briefly and before returning to his sandwich, "Was it last summer… the ice cream APB?"

Dick snickered, "Yeah. Perps walk away with three hundred gallons of ice cream and Chief told us 'Suspects are to be considered dangerous as they are armed with calorie laden goodies and sharp spoons. Be advised, suspects are also presumed to be a lot fatter."

We laughed together and traded our fair share of stories. As I worked our way through our lunch, I couldn't help but think that for just then, just for a little while, that all of us were normal. Family and friends with no troubles, no worries, no concerns.

It wouldn't last though. It would all change when dusk fell.

V

What could have been a better Mother's Day gift then for me to spend the entire day with Mom?

Spending the entire day with Mom and Dad up at the Preserve.

Dad woke me up that morning, coming into my room and sitting on the edge of my bed. I couldn't see my clock and when I had asked what time it was, he said it was time to get up. He's silly…

I changed and brushed my hair before running into wish Mom a Happy Mother's Day. She was in the bathroom doing her hair, already dressed for the day. Mom smiled when she spotted me and kissed the top of my head when I ran over to hug her. After she had finished her hair, she put a bit of lip-gloss on and then turned towards me, "Pucker up, buttercup."

I pursed my lips together and looked up at her. She carefully applied it to my lips before I smacked them together. I was about to ask if I could wear her perfume when Dad walked in, "Almost ready?"

"Yep," Mom answered just as I nodded.

"Okay, I'll tell Alfred we're heading out. I'll meet you out front in the car."

"I'll be down in a minute."

After he left, I followed her into the bedroom and hopped up onto the bed as she put things in her purse. A minute later, I began looking around the room and noticed a vase of roses on Mom's bedside table. "Ooo," I whispered as I crawled across the bed towards the edge, "Where'd you get these?" I asked.

Mom walked over and sat beside me, "Your dad."

I sniffed a few of the flowers and smiled, "They're pretty… So what are we doing today?" I asked as a leaned against her.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "Well, Dad's taking us out to breakfast and then we're going to do some clothes shopping… And after that we're going to head up to the Preserve for a picnic."

"Yeah!" I bounced on the bed.

As I slipped off of the bed, she told me to get a sweater to take incase it got chilly and that she would meet me at the staircase. I skipped to my room, pulled a purple sweater out of my closet and then paused at my bed. Taffy was cuddled in a ball fast asleep. I leaned over and kissed her head, "I'm going to see your big friends, Taff."

She raised her head and yawned briefly before settling back to sleep.

Breakfast had been at Mom's favorite place. Every time we went, I had chocolate chip waffles with chocolate mousse with chocolate milk. One time, Dad even had chocolate milk with me. This time he had black coffee.

The only part of the day that wasn't fun was shopping. Even though we only went to three stores, it still took forever. Summer was coming and Mom thought it would be best to get shopping done before the end of the school year. By the time we were done, Dad was carrying tons of bags and didn't look too happy about it. The only time I saw him smile was when I tried on a blue summer dress. When I came out of the dressing room, I twirled in front of him and asked him if he liked it.

He had smiled and knelt before me, "I love it, kitten."

I kissed his nose before he stood and then went back to twirling.

As much as I wanted to spend the rest of the day in my new dress, I had to change back into my pants and shirt since I were heading up to the Preserve for our picnic. No reason to get something so pretty dirty…

The car ride up seemed longer than usual. Dad was driving and Mom was sitting up next to him. Usually they talked quietly with each other or even with me, but this time they just listened to the radio. I had brought a book to read, but it wasn't with me in the backseat. I leaned over and looked up to the front and smiled to see Mom and Dad holding hands.

I sat back and giggled softly.

"Mattie?" Mom asked as she turned her head to look at me, "What's up?"

"Nothing," I said, "Can I have my book, please?"

"Sure." I watched as she leaned over and picked it up from in between her and Dad's seat. When she handed it back, she turned in her seat slightly, "You going to read to yourself?"

I shrugged, "I can read to you, Mom. It's your day."

She grinned and said, "That would be great," before turning the volume down on the radio.

It was The Little Prince, a story that Alfred had read to me many times. It had a whole bunch of chapters but I didn't mind. Dad and Mom always helped me get through them. Most of the kids I went to school with didn't even like to read, let alone chapter books.

I opened up to the first page of the first and began, " 'Once when I was six years old … I saw a mag…nifi…cent picture in a book, called True Stories from Na… Nature, about the…' what's this one?"

I spelled it out and Dad said, "Primeval."

"The primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa cons…trictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing…' Ew, that's gross."

Mom agreed when I showed her the picture, "Yes it is."

By the time we pulled onto the tree-lined drive of the Preserve, we were just at the beginning of the second chapter. I put my bookmark in and set it on the seat beside me and peered out my window. There were enclosures on both sides of the road that lead up to the main building. The left one, the one on my side, had the snow leopards and the one on the right had a pair of mountain lions. I hadn't seen them yet, but Mom said they were named Trevin and Mauva and were almost as big as the Siberian tiger that had arrived a few weeks ago.

My favorite cat still was Hatera, or as I called her, Hattie. Not only did her name rhyme with mine, but also she was a six-year-old black leopard. My age and hair color. She had been someone's pet since she was a baby and when her owner had died she needed a new home. Hattie was very friendly and when Mom had her on lead, I could pet her and kiss her and brush her.

It made Dad nervous but Mom always made sure that I was safe. In fact the only time I had ever been bit was by a month old tiger cub that Mom had taken care of and it wasn't even his fault. I kind of stuck my finger in his mouth to feel his tongue…

Didn't even need a bandage or anything.

After Dad parked, I hopped out and waited for Mom to get out and then latched on to her hand, "Can I see the new ones?"

She squeezed my hand, "Maybe later. We should get our picnic set up first."

"Okay…" I looked back to ask Dad where he wanted to eat, but his cell phone had rung and he had taken a few steps away to answer it. Mom suggested that we set things up over the side yard where the sun came through the trees. I kept my eyes on Dad and noticed he was frowning slightly. When he caught me looking, he offered a smile before turning away.

Something was up. Even though it wasn't father's day, I made it my goal to make him just as happy as I had made Mom. Maybe I could draw a smiley face with the mustard on his sandwich.

Or I could do a handstand.

Or both.

V

"Sh, she's sleeping," I whispered as Bruce pulled into the garage.

After putting the car in park, he turned carefully and looked at Mattie as she snored softly in the back seat. I saw the faintest hint of a smirk before he nodded and got out of the car. I told him I would get the clothes if he got the kid. He mumbled, "Six of one…" and then opened Mattie's door.

After our picnic at the Preserve, we ended up touring most of the grounds on foot, taking full advantage of the warm weather. Unfortunately, Hatera, the panther my daughter seemed to be infatuated with, was slumbering in a tree. Mattie stood at the fence, making kissy noises and saying, "Here kitty, kitty," but the napping feline hardly twitched her tail.

At a little after five, we decided to head back towards Gotham. At the first town we passed through, Bruce made a quick stop for a few sandwiches and drinks. Mattie had joked that it was the first time "in forever that I ate out every time in one day!" It didn't take long after her dinner for fatigue from the day to pull at Mattie's eyelids. Even still she had been determined to get through the second chapter of her book. I checked back on her several times, noticing her head dipping lower towards her chest and her pages passing slower and slower.

And then not at all.

We passed through the house silently and proceeded towards the staircase. I half-expected Alfred to appear from nowhere and take the bags from me. Unbelievably, I made it all the way to the third floor without a sign of Alfred. I suddenly wondered if his evening was ending as it had started: in the company of one lucky lady. As I turned done the hall, Mattie sighed in Bruce's arms and he paused in mid-step and waited until she settled once more. I whispered, "I'll be in our room."

He nodded and proceeded to slip into her room.

It wasn't until I had all of my clothes put away and all of Mattie's clothes set aside for the morning that Bruce appeared at the doorway. I did my best to pretend to ignore him as I picked out pajamas. As I walked towards the bathroom, he stepped into the room and spoke, "Isn't it a little early to get changed?"

My brow rose, "Are you suggesting I shouldn't change into… this?" I held up the nightie and smirked to see his mouth open on its own accord.

"I said nothing of the sort," Bruce replied as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

I set the garment on the bathroom counter and went to join him on the bed, sitting mere inches away. Once seated, I leaned over and kissed his cheek, feeling the day's worth of stubble tickle my lips.

"What?" he asked while turning to face me.

"Oh come on. Roses, a day out doing everything I wanted to do… we're one game of bat and cat away from this being the best day of the year," I smiled and put a hand on his knee.

His left eyebrow twitched slightly before he glanced at his watch, "Little early for that, too."

"What a goody two shoes…" I snickered, and then leaned against his shoulder before standing up.

As I passed into the bathroom again, I heard him sigh as his footsteps sounded softly on the carpet. With daylight growing longer, he became frustrated with having to wait for nightfall. Unfortunately, with him starting patrols later, it usually meant that his return home would be delayed as well, which off set when he woke up for work, thus resulting in the vicious cycle that had recently become his day to day life.

By the time he walked into the bathroom, I had started filling the tub with water and had lit a few candles on the counter top. As I poured bubble bath into the water, I looked at him as he stood in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

He shook his head and leaned against the doorframe.

Having known him for so long, I could almost always decipher what was brewing behind his blue eyes. And at that moment, I could see two things: admiration and distraction.

"When are you heading out?"

He glanced towards the bathroom window, "In an hour or so."

"Ah," I replied as I sat on the edge of the tub and dipped my fingers into the water and rapidly growing bubbles. "Did Mattie go down okay?"

He nodded, "I changed her into a nightshirt and tucked her in. She hardly moved."

"Big day for her," I commented as I stood and wiped my hands together.

He nodded again, although slower. "Alfred said he would be back around ten or so."

"Ah yes, a night in the theatre district. Don't tell me you're going to spy on them when you go out on patrols."

"Hadn't even crossed my mind," Bruce replied with the slightest twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"My ass it hadn't," I grumbled while I removed my earrings. As I tied my hair up, I looked over my shoulder at him, "Well?"

A look of confusion flashed over his face, "Well what?"

"Are you getting in the tub or what?"

That drew a low laugh from him as he stepped into the room. "As enticing as your offer seems, I'll have to take a rain check."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. I hope you don't mind."

"Me?" I asked, "Why would I care if you couldn't accept my offer. Oh, before you head out, can you get me the phone book? I need to call up someone who wouldn't refuse a nice warm bath with me… Oh, wait, that's every man in his right mind…" I winked at him before turning my back towards him.

As I began to undo the buttons on my blouse, I felt Bruce's arms snare around my waist. I suddenly became concerned that he had taken my joke to heart, which rarely happened. He set his chin on my shoulder and sighed into my ear, "I'm sorry… For this…"

Oh no.

"No, Bruce, don't you dare…"

Bruce suddenly lifted me up off of the ground and took two broad steps towards the bathtub. I dug two fingers into his collarbone in a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable. But it was too late, for he promptly set me, fully clothed, into the warm, soapy water.

As I laughed uncontrollably, he spoke, "You wait right here, I'll make those calls for you. After all, it's your special day."

"Bruce," I growled as loud as I would dare, "Get back here."

He paused at the doorway and looked back at me, still keeping hold of that damned expressionless face.

I sighed and sat back in the water, "Get me a glass of wine while you're at it."

He finally broke into a smile and nodded, "Yes, dear."

V

I was allergic to the universe. I was unemployed. I had a blister on my heel the size of a quarter. I could hardly walk down the street without someone recognizing me as "the cop from the shootout."

And I had yet to get flowers for my mother.

Eight hours earlier, I had been seated across from Barbara at one of the nicest tables in Angelino's, her favorite Italian restaurant. We chatted while working our way through baked ziti and picked on the other couples that dined around us. Just after we ordered dessert, a man proposed to his date at the table adjacent to ours.

Barbara had sighed, "You ever do that to me, and I'll kill you."

"Point taken," I snickered.

Stomachs full, we made our way back to the Clocktower with Barbara behind the wheel. When we hit traffic just inside Tri-Corner, I turned the radio down and said, "I think I had one too many canolies."

She shook her head, "That's a first, too much food for you."

I nodded and looked out the window as a mass of pedestrians worked their way through the cross walk. "Tim said that he and Cass were going on a date tomorrow."

"Oh?" she replied as she waited for the light to turn.

"Yep. Dinner and a movie. The classical route. I guess it would be easier between those two. If the signal went off or something went down, neither one of them would have to make excuses to leave. If I had a dollar for every lame excuse I had to give to a date…"

"You would have three dollars," she grinned before accelerating through the intersection.

I glanced over at her, "No" I let out a sigh, "More like two dollars."

She reached over and patted my shoulder, "Woe is you."

It was another minute before I spoke again, "So what do you think of them?"

"As in Tim and Cassandra?"

"As in."

Barbara took a moment gathering her thoughts, "Well, I certainly know how hard it is to do the work without someone there to share the burden with. They seem to be working better since they've started this unofficial fling, so it hasn't harmed their performance… and if things turned south… Who knows…"

"Good point. Hey look at us. We've been north, south, east and west. And it's turned out all right."

She nodded, "True."

Another silent minute and I cleared my throat and fiddled with my tie, "Speaking of couples, I haven't seen the Old Man and his Lady Fair in a while. Heard anything from them?"

She turned right onto our street, "Selina called the other day, wanted to have lunch next week. And to tell me about Mattie's graduation. Other than that I guess everything's all right." When I didn't comment, she inquired, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just seems that Bruce has been a little... Intense lately on patrols, more so than usual. Was wondering if something was going on."

As she pressed the button that opened the door that lead to the Clocktower's basement, Barbara said, "He's been staying out later, but that's nothing unusual for this time of year."

I bit my lip, "I guess you're right."

Once parked, she took the key out of the ignition, "Why, have you seen something else?"

As I opened my door I said, "No, just thinking out loud. Forget it."

She managed to stay silent the entire elevator ride up to her apartment. She even kept her mind while she washed up and changed into sweats and a tank top. Over the last month, we had done surprisingly well together, no bickering or arguing or anything of the sort. I had noted that she had been a bit on the overbearing side when I first moved in, laying down the laws of the land and doing her best to nip my bachelor behavior at the bud. But I hadn't thought much of it… Afterall, it was Barbara.

As I began changing into the black and blue, she appeared at the bedroom doorway, "Dick?"

"Yeah," I responded while pulling on my gloves.

Barbara set her hands in her lap. When I chanced a look over, I saw a tiny incisor tug at her lower lip briefly as her eyes found mine. "Are you okay?"

"What?" I asked.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I meant what do you mean?"

When our eyes met, she blinked rapidly before gazing down at the floor. A second later, she looked back up to me and said, "Well, it's… It's Mother's Day, and it's been a month since… and then everything before that…"

I looked down at my hands and absentmindedly traced the edge of my mask, "Yeah. Not one of better years, that's for sure." Keeping a hold of the mask, I turned to face her, "I guess I could ask you the same question."

Barbara nodded and looked over to the dresser at a vase of lilies that sat next to a small silver framed photograph. She moved by me and selected one flower before turning back to me, arm extended, "For her..."

I nodded and traced her fingertips before taking the flower. After donning the mask and running a hand through my hair, I made a step towards the window before turning back, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Dick," she looked up at me, her face a mixture of emotions that I couldn't even begin to decipher.

I sighed heavily, "Could you check that James Bond DVD set on eBay. Bidding closes at midnight and I want to make sure that Doctor Dangerous doesn't outbid me."

Finally, a look I recognized came over her features. Disbelief.

Then complete and utter admiration.

Perhaps life wasn't all bad.

V

"You've been quiet."

I looked over at Robin and shook my head, "Funny."

"I meant for you, you know, you've been quiet," he commented as he cracked his knuckles.

It was fifteen minutes passed three in the morning and I was officially bored. Patrols always seemed to go by faster when I kept active. Down time made the night unbearable. But at least I had good company.

"Did you do anything for today?" I asked softly while looking down at the street below us.

"For today? Oh, yeah, lunch with Dad and Dana. It was okay. How about---," he cut himself short at the realization of his error.

I nodded and bit my lip, "It's okay. I went with Barbara and her… Dad. Took flowers to Sarah's grave."

He nodded but didn't say anything else. It had been an awkward day, always had been. It had been easier when I was younger, never thinking about Mother's Day or even having a mother. Even after leaving Cain and that life behind, it really didn't bother me. And even though so many of the people that I called my family had also lived years without a mother…

They had a mother. They had the memories to cherish. The gravestones to visit.

"Cass?"

I jerked and looked over at him, "What?"

"Ready to go?"

"Sure," I stood and adjusted my cape before reaching for a grapple. Just as I was about to aim the gun at an adjacent building, I heard Batman's voice on the comm. link, "Update."

Before I could respond, Robin replied, "Everything's clear on our side."

There was a brief pause before, "Fine. Call it a night then."

A soft click sounded before either one of us could confirm his… command to go home. Robin looked over at me and shrugged. I did the same in return and shot my line, leaping off the roof before hearing it attach to the roof next door. A second later, I heard Robin's cape fluttering behind me. The race for the Clocktower was on.

Batman had only contacted us three times that night, not unusual for him. What was off was how each time he called on us, it took him less than three seconds to sign off. After the second time, Robin has asked Oracle to check on Batman's location but she couldn't as he had turned off the homing device in his suit. A new habit of his. I guess it wasn't worth aggravating him.

The second I landed on the roof, I somersaulted into a dead run and then jumped the small gap between the rooftops and quickly. A low whistle came from behind me and I almost smiled when I heard, "Holy crap."

Over the years, I knew there was a pattern to when Batman would distance himself, during the day and night. But it had seemed that more and more, he was separating himself from us. I had my thoughts about it, especially since he asked me to work with Tim more… Maybe I just didn't want to face it. At least not enough to tell anyone else what I thought.

Two blocks from the Clocktower I paused and let him catch up with me. I rested one leg and put my hands on my hips, "Second place, first loser."

"Funny," he said as he approached me. A foot away, he glanced down at the alleyway, "Well, guess I better get back to Bristol. We're still on for dinner, right?"

I nodded, "Yep."

"Okay. I'll see tomorrow then," he nodded and then jumped effortlessly to the street below. I watched as he unlocked the bike, started it and then eased onto the empty street.

Going home.

Usually, I snuck in through the side window, checked in with Barbara if she was still up and then grabbed a snack before showering and changing for bed. Instead, I found the computer area to be dark and empty before I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, changed into sweats and a tank top and collapsed into one of the leather recliners. I wasn't tired, not in the least. I could work some yoga in, run on the treadmill… But I would hate to wake Barbara.

Watching her and her father this morning had felt strange. I had known Sarah Essen-Gordon very briefly but had been forever impacted by her death. Her sacrifice. And although she had not been Barbara's biological mother and she had admitted to being at odds with her at first, I knew Barbara thought of her as an influential person. And I guess that's what a parent should be.

"Misery loves company." I sat up and looked over my shoulder to see Dick a pair of shorts and a dark tee shirt. He smirked as he walked over and took a seat in the other chair, "Or so I've heard… Didn't see you at all tonight?"

"We stayed to the East."

"Ah. Can't say I ventured too far. Tried to get a fix on the Pointy Eared One…" he leaned back and opened a bottle of iced tea, "Alas… No luck."

I sipped water before asking, "How was dinner?"

"Good. Almost put on the fat tights tonight… You been there before?"

I nodded, "For my birthday lat year. Baked ziti."

"Mmm… Good call." He yawned loudly and closed his eyes for a moment, "Longest day ever."

"Agreed."

Dick sat up and raised his bottle towards mine, "Here's to tomorrow."

I smiled, "Cheers."

"Well, I'm beat. Good night," he stood and shuffled towards the hall.

"Good night," I said softly.

I stood as well and made my way to my bedroom. Tomorrow. Sleep in until eight in the morning, breakfast with Barbara, a high of eighty without a cloud in the sky and a night out with Tim before a night out with Robin.

Something to look forward to.

V


	18. One And Only: XVIII

Title: One And Only: XVIII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the "Series of Three" Storyline. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: I am addicted to Clean Sweep so Cass and Dana Drake are too, LOL.

Selina's dream is influenced by the 1966 "Batman: The Movie" and of course Chris's ingenious mind.

A/N 3: And Batman Begins is most definitely only THIRTEEN DAYS AWAY!

V

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Smack.

"Dick, the snooze button will yield to a lighter touch."

As he rolled over to face me, Dick took the pillow off of his head and smirked before replying, "But… It is much more satisfying to give it the old whack a roo."

I let out a quiet laugh. I had set the alarm for eight so that I could get an early start. I was redoing the computer bay in addition to touching up on a few of the countermeasures instilled in the Clocktower. Unfortunately, I had planned on Tim and Cassandra's labor but they were taking the day to move Tim out of his dorm and to set up things in his new apartment.

It hadn't come as a surprise to see him wanting to get out on his own. When he had brought pictures of the place to Mattie's graduation reception two weeks earlier, all of his threats and jokes of being an adult and living on his own suddenly came true. Selina had commented on our way to the parking lot after the ceremony that I should keep an eye out to see how late Cass came home from patrols. Apparently Bruce had overheard as we both listened to his breathing hitch.

The two of them had been remarkably odd. And by odd, I mean normal. Going out for dinner most nights and then to some movie, show or concert and on other nights they ate in the Clocktower. But the odd part came when they put the masks on at night. The cute behaviors vanished as they went to work just as they had been for years, something that I had never been able to perfect at their age. And with Tim coming home from school, I was certain that the days would be filled with even more couple cuteness while the night would be have more veracious vigilantism.

So, it was just Dick and I versus the daylong project that I feared would dip well into the evening, when my other half would no doubt bail on me to tend to roof top hopping.

The alarm went off again and this time Dick gently pressed the snooze button. I smiled and patted his arm, "Good job."

"I aim to please," he yawned.

As much as I wanted to lounge in bed all day, I forced myself up. After changing and washing up, I asked Dick if he wanted anything for breakfast. His answer didn't come until I was through the bedroom door, "Waffles. Xanex waffles."

Smiling, I made my way into the kitchen and paused to see Cass pouring herself a glass of cranberry juice, "Hey, didn't think you would be up already."

She shrugged before putting the bottle back in the fridge, "Couldn't sleep in. Pretty busy day."

"Right, when are you heading over to GSU?"

She took a sip before replying, "Ten-thirty. He has an exam until ten and said he still had a few things to pack up."

I nodded, "And then you're heading up to Bristol to get the things from his house, right?"

"Yep… Sorry we couldn't help here."

"Sure you are… That's okay. I have Dick… As useful as he is at eight in the morning."

Cass smirked before downing the rest of her juice. "Well, gonna shower and get ready I guess." As she walked into the hall, the doorbell rang and she called out that she would get it. We rarely had visitors, let alone that early. I listened as Cass opened the door and then as her soft words greeted the guest. A light male voice responded and asked if Dick was there.

A moment later Cass appeared at the doorway, "Is Dick awake yet?" After I shook my head, she said, "Oh, because his, um, partner is here."

It was then that the cropped brown haired head of Trey Richardson peered into the kitchen. We had met only a handful of times of which had been long before the shootout and Dick's resulting retirement. Seeing him, months after the ceremony that had commemorated his and Dick's bravery in the Bank of America shootout, in my home, was a slight shock.

"Trey?"

He offered a flash of a smirk before stepping into the doorway after Cassandra stepped back. Trey sported a pair of slate jeans, form fitting tee and a short sleeved plaid shirt that was unbuttoned. Out of a force of habit, I checked each of hips for any sign of a holstered weapon and smiled to see none. After putting his hands in his pants pockets, he asked, "Is Dick around? He told me this is where he would be staying for a while…"

I offered a soft smile as I folded my hands on my lap, "Yeah. Kind of a home away from home for him."

He nodded, "Yeah, his place back in the Haven wasn't nearly as cozy as this… Oh, sorry about dropping in like this, I was in town visiting my girlfriend… figured I'd take a chance that he was awake."

"Dick? Awake before noon on a Saturday?" Cass blurted out from down the hall.

We both laughed knowing Dick all too well.

Before I could offer Trey a cup of coffee I heard Dick's voice from the room down the hall, "I know that laugh!" Not a minute later, his footsteps pounded towards us and came to an abrupt halt just before he crashed into his former partner-tutoree. He spoke as he mustered a stern look on his face, "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be pulling a double or something?"

Trey had been smiling when Dick had first appeared but the happiness in his expression quickly faded to confusion.

Dick laughed before slapping the younger man on the back, "Just kidding, how've you've been?"

"Oh, fine. I figured that uh, maybe we could play catch up over breakfast. My treat."

Dick looked over at me, "Ooo, can I?"

I rolled my eyes, "As long as you're back by ten so we can get things started."

In the five minutes it took Dick to change, Trey and I shared light conversation. For the most part it was Trey asking about my father and what it was like growing up as his daughter. Just as the inevitable awkward silence fell between us, Dick reappeared, dressed in wrinkled jeans and blue polo shirt with the collar flipped up on the left side. I pointed at it and he fixed it as he walked over to me. After he pecked my cheek, he said, "I'll bring you back a frappucino."

"You better."

After a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a slice of tomato, I took a glass of green tea to Oracle's lair. Knowing Dick, I wouldn't see him until well after one in the afternoon. That was being optimistic. Even without him, I had quite a bit that could be accomplished. Reorganizing the hardware layout wouldn't be too hard and I could at least clean up the systems and check for any updates. Bruce had mentioned something about Tim working on one of the identification record programs used in keeping track of the various criminals Gotham housed and her guardians had to deal with. Hopefully, I could snag him later in the day to see if he had completed the changes.

Which would leave inching through dirty crawlspaces, checking for wire damage that would affect my countermeasures all for Dick, whence he returned.

I was halfway through air dusting my keyboards when the phone rang. I finished the one I had been working on before making my way to the living room. As I moved through the hall, I heard the shower running, Cass getting ready for her day. Just as I reached the end table that held the phone and answering machine I heard the latter click on.

Since Dick had moved in, I had told him he could redo the message on the machine to put his and my name on it. Since I was adamant about answering the phone, I had yet to hear it. I sat back and waited for it.

Loud rock music came from the speaker and then Dick's voice, "We will, we will, CALL YOU! We will, we will, CALL YOU!"

As my mind tried to comprehend what I had heard, the infamous tone sounded and was followed by Bruce's confused voice, "Hm… That's odd, I must have the wrong number. Sorry…"

I growled quietly to the empty room, "I will, I will… kill him…"

V

"Need a hand?"

Tim looked up as he zipped up a massive suitcase, "Hey, Cass," he paused as he hefted the case off of his bed and set it on the floor.

I smiled slightly before saying, "I didn't see your car downstairs."

He spoke while he double-checked the empty drawers of his desk and dresser, "Bruce let me borrow the Suburban. Figured I could fit this all in for one trip seeing how moving out of home is going to take quite a few…"

"Makes sense."

Since his room was on the second floor, it took a little effort carrying a year's worth of books, clothes, posters and computer paraphernalia. Considering how very little he actually stayed in the dorm room, it was funny to think he had so much… crap. I lived in my room year round and I didn't have half of things he did. And girls were supposed to be obsessed with material goods.

Surprisingly, we had everything packed within an hour and only had to wait another fifteen minutes to get his room cleared by a resident advisor. After a quick stop at the first gas station to fuel up for the day of moving and a round of root beers from the convenience store, we headed towards Bryanttown.

He had signed a two-year lease for a two-bedroom apartment on the tenth floor of the Racquel Building on Henry Avenue. It was centrally located west of Midtown and a good forty-minute drive from the residence he had called home for two decades. From what he had told me, his father wasn't too keen on the move. Then again, there wasn't much that his father was keen about anyway.

After parking in the private lot across from his building, we grabbed a few of the smaller items and made our way over. The lobby was empty and I took the chance to look around. It was floored with varnished hardwood with the lower part of the walls paneled in the same wood and the top half with a maroon wallpaper.

"Nice," I commented while looking around.

Tim fished for his keys as we approached the elevator, "Yeah. Ought to be for the rent…" After a brief ride up to his floor, we stepped off into a hallway that was nearly identical to the lobby. He led us to the second door on the left, labeled 10 B and then unlocked and opened it. "Home sweet home…" he muttered as we walked in.

The pictures he had shown me really hadn't done it justice. The entry room was broad, floored in hardwood and trimmed with bare white walls. Straight ahead was a spacious hallway that opened up into an empty living room. As I entered the room, I looked to the left to see a blue tiled kitchen and dining area. To the right was a short hall, lined with the two bedroom doors and what I assumed was the bathroom.

"Nice… Real nice," I continued while looking out the large windows of the living room.

He set his backpack down and approached me, "Yeah. Big step up from ye olde dorm room."

"You have furniture?" I motioned to the barren room.

Tim nodded, "My dad's bought me a living room set. And I'm taking everything from my bedroom at home… And I have my microwave and kitchen appliances from school… So I guess I'm pretty much set."

"Just have to move it all here."

He sighed, "Yeah. Easier said than done."

It took less than an hour to unload the car and to somewhat arrange his belongings in the apartment. From there we belted in once more for our first trip to Bristol. Apparently he had already rented a trailer in order to move the larger items leaving the back of the SUV for the perishable belongings. The drive up took a little over twenty minutes, the midday traffic practically nonexistent for a change. He opted for playing the radio louder than usual instead of talking. Whatever.

When we pulled up his drive, he finally spoke, "Hunh, Dad and Dana must be in town," while pointing out the open garage door. "Guess it's just you and me then."

"Oh… You think I'm helping?" He glanced over at me as he prepared to back up to the parked trailer. "That's funny. Because I don't remember you helping me with Barbara's apartment."

"What?"

I glared at him, the anger from having to rearrange all of Barbara's new furniture all by myself broadcasted clearly by my features.

"Oh, that was months ago… Come on… Are you serious?"

Although the terror in his eyes showed his fear of an afternoon of fruitless and lonely labor was amusing, I finally sighed, "No, I'm not serious. But you owe me dinner. Real food this time, not just pizza."

"You name it, you can eat it."

Tim had overstated how much he had ready to go. A lot. Practically nothing was packed aside from a bulging suitcase and an overflowing crate of CDs. When I walked into the room, I sighed, realizing that this project had suddenly a great deal bigger than either of us had expected.

Well, at least more than I had wanted it to be.

"You need to go on that show," I said as I began piling his blankets in the middle of his bed.

"What show?" he asked, starting to tackle the overflowing pile of papers on his desk.

"Clean Sweep. Make you take all of your stuff outside on the lawn into three piles. Keep, Toss and Sell. Then we could move only what you needed… Save time."

He set the papers back down, "Never heard of it… That's not that bad of an idea, though. Let's do it."

I glanced at him from over my shoulder, "I was kidding."

"I'm not, let's do it. I'll get the trash bags."

"Oh, boy," I muttered as he jogged out of the room.

Five hours later, the entire life collection of Timothy Drake was neatly organized in three massive piles on the front yard of the Drake Residence. The Toss pile was the most impressive by far comprised mostly of old, tattered clothes, ancient papers and faded magazines. We went through an entire box of garbage bags in just containing the mess. As I tied off the last bag, he approached me, "This will be one trip on its own just to drop it off at the dump…"

I nodded slowly before looking at my watch, "Hmm, doesn't it close at six?"

Tim glanced at his own watch, "Crap, quarter of. Okay, so that's for tomorrow," he looked over the other two piles, "I guess the Salvation Army donations can wait until tomorrow as well. Maybe we can at least get the furniture and boxes moved downtown before dusk."

"Furniture first?"

He nodded, "Might as well."

After loading the couch, sofa and two dressers, we filled the back of the SUV with a pair of end tables, a few lamps and couch cushions. As we prepared to get in the front seats, a dark sedan pulled up the drive and pulled up next to the driver's side. When the window rolled down, we both saw Jack Drake behind the wheel, "What's with everything being outside, Tim?"

He shrugged as he sat in the driver's seat and shut his door, "It's all mine… I'll take care of it by tomorrow," he leaned over and waved at Dana.

"Hi, Tim. Looks like the crew from Clean Sweep was here."

I smiled as he rolled his eyes and muttered quietly under his breath, "Chicks and their cleaning shows…"

V

As I stirred a spicy Marinara sauce, I heard a soft sound just outside the service entrance. Miss Mattie and Ms. Selina had been in the rear yard enjoying the spectacularly warm, sunny afternoon since a little before three. A look at the wall clock showed it to have been two hours since they had begun their outdoor activities. I readied two glasses of chilled pineapple juice in case they had returned, in need of hydration.

When I prepared to sauté the shrimp and scallops I heard a different sound. A slight rapping on the glass window of the door.

Very few people used the service entrance, and those who did surely had no reason to knock. I wiped my hands and turned down the heat on the stove before investigating. The second I spotted the visitor's dark blue suit, red tie and wire rimmed glasses, I offered a pleased smile before opening the door, "Mr. Kent."

"Hello, Alfred. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

I stepped back and allowed him to enter, "Not at all, sir, I was just preparing dinner."

When I closed the door he sniffed the air, "Mmm, spicy seafood sauté."

"Indeed," I commented while leading the way to the kitchen, "Were you expected sir? Because I'm afraid Master Bruce has yet to return from Midtown."

He shook his head and paused at the doorway while I continued back to my post at the stove "No, actually, I was in the neighborhood. Figured it couldn't hurt to drop in, see how everyone was."

"Ah. Ms. Kyle and Miss Mattie were recreating in the yard, I believe."

Mr. Kent nodded, "Yeah, I saw them. Didn't want to intrude though."

"Think nothing of it, sir. I'm sure Miss Mattie would adore seeing you."

A spotted a soft smile growing across his lips, "Good point. I guess I will go see them," he looked to the door that lead to the hall and then stepped towards it.

Just before he passed through, "Will you be staying for dinner, sir?"

"No, thank you, but Lois and I have plans this evening."

"Very well sir, when Master Bruce arrives I will send him your way."

He paused, nodded and then passed through the door.

Not ten minutes later, the marinara sauce was simmering, the linguini pot was bubbling and the shrimp and scallops were sizzling. As I chopped lettuce for Caesar salad, I heard another sound from the service entrance. First the idling of a car and then a familiar set of footsteps as they approached the door and then passed through it.

Before he entered the kitchen, I called out, "Good evening, Master Bruce."

When he appeared, he looked just as he had when he had left at eight that morning, although slightly more worn. Investors from Australia that were supposed to have arrived on Wednesday were delayed until Friday, which unfortunately required Master Bruce to go into work on a Saturday. For most CEO's the touring, lunching and chatting would be an easy day but for Master Bruce it took quite a toll on him. Before he could ask for something to drink, I offered him one of the prepared glasses of juice and he thanked me while taking it.

Master Bruce set his briefcase on the floor and sipped slowly from the glass. After another two sips, the glass was nearly empty and he set it in the sink.

"Where's Selina and Mattie?"

I informed him of their location and continued, "As well as a guest, sir."

His brow rose slightly as he lifted his briefcase, silently asking, Who? When I told him he closed his eyes and sighed softly, "Ah."

I waited to hear his footsteps to make their way towards the door leading to the hall. When my ears were met with nothing but silence, I looked up from the cutting board to see him still leaning against the countertop. I set the knife down and wiped my hands free of lettuce scraps, "Is there something amiss, sir?"

He shook his head slowly before answering, "No… I was just… thinking. Tim moving into that place in Bryanttown… That satellite cave we never finished isn't too far from his apartment." While I waited for him to continue, I peeled an onion and proceeded to dice it. Master Bruce stood and looked towards the hall, "I think we should finish it."

"Excellent idea, sir," I commented softly.

He took three steps towards the door, paused as if he were going to speak, but then continued into the hallway.

With the salad complete, I checked each saucepan on the stovetop before going about setting the table. For three. The earliest dinners I had set had been for three. And then for one…

At half past six, the table was placed and the meal was set out. I had yet to hear or see the return of a single member of the family and decided to set out to the rear yard. Bypassing the library, drawing room and rarely used ballroom, I made my way to the glass doors that lead to the stone patio. As I opened and walked through them I spotted Miss Mattie and Ms. Selina sitting in the lawn beneath a large, shady oak tree talking softly.

Without announcing my presence, the young girl looked up and smiled at me, "Alfred, we found a ladybug!"

"Splendid, Miss Mattie," I commented as I approached them.

She stood and started skipping in my direction, her tiny hands cupped together as a temporary container for her six-legged friend. When she paused in front of me, I peered down at her hands as she opened them slightly. And there indeed was a tiny ladybug. "Mom says I have to let it go… Says Taffy or Isis might eat it."

"Speaking of eating…" Ms. Selina said as she stood and walked towards us.

"Quite true, madam, dinner is ready and waiting. May inquire as to where Master Bruce and his guest are?"

"Dad and Uncle Clark went for a walk," Miss Mattie said as she crouched next to a hedge. We watched as she carefully set the tiny insect on a broad leaf. "There, now it can have dinner too."

When she stood and returned to her mother's side, she looked up and asked if she could go find her father. Ms. Selina answered in the negative, "No, hon, Dad will be back in a little bit. Why don't we get washed up, okay?"

Although she offered a purposeful pout, the girl obeyed and followed her mother through doors from which I had just come. As I looked across the property, hoping to catch a glimpse of the missing men, I heard Selina ask, "Alfred, why don't you join us for dinner," and then a soft whisper meant to evade her daughter's ears, "I don't think they're going to be back anytime soon."

I turned to face her, "Oh, Ms. Selina, I couldn't…"

She shook head, "Nonsense. Come on, I'll even help you with the dishes."

I offered a slight smile, "How could I possibly refuse such a delightful offer?"

V

"Mattie said she's done with school," I said, hoping to sound as amiable as possible. Although I had known Bruce for years and considered him to be a friend of sorts, it was always a challenge to start things off. Especially when I arrived, uninvited in his city let alone at his home.

I had been talking with Selina and Mattie when he had arrived. The look on his face when he had passed through the glass doors had at first been content and relieved. Then he noticed his wife and daughter were not alone and his expression altered slightly not with surprise but with slight upset. I watched on as he greeted his daughter with a hug and kissed his wife on the cheek, still doing his best to hide the surprise of my being there. Before I could tell him why I had dropped by, he suggested we go for a walk.

And we did.

It never ceased to amaze me just how vast Wayne Manor and its grounds were. Instead of there being designated trails in the woods that surrounded the house, Bruce lead us down narrow paths that even I could barely recognize as being orderly. I could just picture him running down the trails, knowing where every root was. After ten minutes of silence I had opened my mouth, hoping that talking about his daughter would be safe ground to start on.

He nodded slightly and continued walking beside me.

"Listen, Bruce, I just wanted to drop in… Haven't seen you since Mattie's birthday party…" I tried a quick smile but he didn't seem to notice, "Can't believe how much she's grown, even since then."

I noticed the corner of his mouth twitch. Paternal pride barely contained.

"How's Lois?" he asked suddenly.

I paused, "Good, great. We're going out to dinner tonight in Metropolis. Anniversary of the first time she called me 'Smallville' I think."

He nodded again and picked up the pace.

And then I heard it. At first I thought it had been him stepping on a branch or crunching the pine needles with his footfalls. But it was too consistent. As we continued in silence, I listened carefully as he walked. Every step he took, it sounded… A soft pop.

"Saw that missing person's case was wrapped up. Congratulations."

He looked over at me briefly, "Wasn't my case. Robin and Batgirl handled it"

"Ah, well give them my best. Seemed like it was going to last forever." Another curt nod. My welcome was already overstayed and I hadn't been there for more than fifteen minutes. "Well, I might as well get going---."

"Wait, Clark…"

I looked over at him. Bruce had taken a few steps more from where I had paused, but kept his back to me. I didn't know whether I should walk towards him or let him turn to face me.

Before I could make a choice either way, Bruce spoke again, "I didn't mean to put you off… I'm glad you dropped by. I've been meaning to… talk to you about some things…"

"Oh?"

It seemed like an eternity before he spoke, his eyes looking into the woods, "When I took reserve status… I told you it was because I was too busy with my own city to be involved with the problems the League dealt with. At the time, I had convinced myself that it was true, that the crime levels in Gotham were keeping me busy enough. With Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in school and last year, having Cassandra training abroad… It only proved my theory to be true. Gotham was enough."

"I could see why," I commented quietly.

He let out a breath out slowly, "It never was before though. Twenty years ago, ten years ago it was never a problem…" he ran a hand through his hair, the simple action revealing graying roots that I hadn't noticed before. Or that I had chosen not to notice.

Bruce continued, "But with me being shot, and Selina and then Mattie… Everything changed… And I'm not sure it was for the best or the worst."

There was a long silence, "Bruce, I… don't know what to say."

He finally turned to face me, "Either do I," Bruce paused, "Which is probably why I've been avoiding this conversation."

"I don't want to sound hokey, but my mother always told me that life is nothing but change. Without it, there is nothing to live for."

Bruce took a long time to respond, "You're right."

"I am?"

"You do sound hokey."

"Oh," I replied. Bruce never joked. At least not that I knew of. Then again there was still so much I didn't know about him and probably never would.

He glanced at his watch, one that would run for one month of my salary, "What time was your dinner with Lois?"

"Eight."

"Almost seven now," he commented, "I'm probably late for my own dinner."

I glanced towards the Manor, peering through the trees and the distance, "Yep, they're onto dessert. Peach cobbler."

He smirked and laughed quietly, "Mattie's favorite."

Without another word, we began retracing our steps, making our way out of the woods and towards the manicured lawn that I had the privilege of watching my friend's daughter play without a care in the world. As we neared the clearing, I spoke up, "If I had to say, Bruce, I think it was for the best. What you've gained has far outweighed what you've lost." I placed a hand on his shoulder, "If you ever need me, ever need help..."

He called me a boy scout under his breath and told me to go home to my wife. I smiled at him before taking flight. Perhaps he had thought I wouldn't pay attention or that I would be too occupied to hear him add, "And you're right. It was for the best."

Then I laughed because of course he would know that I would be paying attention and that I wouldn't be too occupied to hear him.

V

"What is it, redecorating day?" Barbara asked over the comm. link.

I paused before asking her to clarify.

After finishing patrols around three, I had spent the last hour working on the satellite Batcave in Bryanttown, taking an inventory of the equipment and supplies that I had left there temporarily after No Man's Land had ended. I had never had the time or the need to finish it, but having Tim moving to the area had provided the need so I had made the time.

"Well, I revamped my lair today, no thanks to Dick, Tim moved out of his dorm and his house and now I find you in this mini-Cave playing housekeeper."

"Not cleaning, taking inventory."

"Tomato, tomahto," she replied, "So seriously, are you actually going to finally finish this bungalow?"

I replied as I began shutting off the generators that supplied the computer bay and lights in the room, "Not tonight."

She paused, "Then may I inquire as to why instead of going home to sleep you are clea… taking inventory?"

"It needs to be done."

"Ah. And it obviously needs to be done at four in the morning."

I paused, "When else?"

She sighed, "Forget that I asked. Besides, you are no longer my favorite superhero. Clark dropped by on his way home, brought me a cherry cheesecake from that bakery on 17th."

As I locked up and made my way into the alley outside of the satellite's enclosed entrance, "I'll buy you the bakery on 17th then."

I listened as she laughed to herself, "I suppose I can be persuaded to worship you again. I take it he stopped in to see you as well?"

After calling on the Mobile, which was parked three blocks away, I answered, "Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

There was a brief silence before she spoke again, "Ah, we're playing the monosyllable game. My favorite."

The second the car rolled up I opened the door and settled into the driver's seat. I switched to the video LCD display and found Barbara smiling on the other end of the line, "Heading home?"

"I suppose."

"Aren't you in a good mood, I take it Clark didn't bring you any baked goods." I scowled in response and she grinned. "Oh, Dick wanted to apologize for not… how did he put it… 'banging up the baddies' tonight. His partner from the Haven came over this morning, they went out to breakfast, stayed out until lunch and then Trey conned him into going back to BPD headquarters to see the guys."

"Good."

"I thought so too," she said while pulling a strand of bangs behind her left ear, "Got me wondering if he'll ever go back to that life. I know he said he didn't want to but… Seeing him with Trey this morning, just for a minute… I think he misses it."

"Has he mentioned any other plans?"

"As in a career? Actually, he was thinking about a private business, home and business security designs or something. Figured it wouldn't be a problem to start it up, especially here in Gotham."

"So he's staying in Gotham?"

She shrugged, "Indefinitely, I don't know… You know Dick, he likes to spread his wings."

That he did. I spotted the sign for the Bristol exit and sped over to the right hand lane.

"Speaking of Dick, did he… change your answering machine message?"

She sighed in response, "Yes. Yes he did. And yes it's already been changed to a less college frat house-esque message." She paused and then asked, "Did you check out Tim's place yet?"

I nodded, "Externally. Seems like a secure enough building."

"I went over a little after seven, brought over dinner for Tim and Cass. They had moved everything in but didn't look ambitious enough to unpack yet. Surprised to see them even be able to eat let alone suit up for patrols."

"Should have hired movers."

"Should have, could have, would have. I guess they thought it was going to be easier than it was. Then again, sometimes you have to learn the hard way."

When I was ten minutes from home, I asked Barbara to prepare upgrades for the computer system in the satellite cave and to collect a set of hardware and software for me to take down the next night. She said she had most of the next day free and would be able to get everything ready without a problem. I then wished her a good night before signing off.

Logging patrol activities took longer than I had expected and I didn't finish until half past five. Skipping the shower, I changed into boxers and donned a housecoat before going upstairs. When I made it to the third floor, I paused at Mattie's half-opened door and peered inside. She was curled up on her side, her slender arm wrapped loosely around Taffy's furry form. I was tempted to pull her blankets up, but feared waking her. Instead, I closed her door and walked down the hall to my own room.

Selina was sleeping in a position similar to her daughter, although her arm was wrapped around Isis. Before getting into bed, I went to the bathroom, and washed my face and hands before popping back two aspirin tablets. The blackout drapes had already been pulled and I approached the bed from my side and slowly slipped under the covers. Selina remained motionless but Isis yawned as she rolled onto her back, stretching out beside her owner. I gently scratched the black cat's soft belly and listened as a rough purr started. Over the years I had slowly built a rapport with the cat, at least enough so that I could pet her and pick her up without worrying about claws and fangs.

I gently lifted the sleepy feline and set her on the other side of Selina, making sure she wasn't too close to the edge of the bed. Cats landed on their feet, but when they were half-asleep there was no telling which part would land first.

As I settled on my side, I froze as Selina yawned and murmured in her slumber. Waking her this early in the morning would not be a wise move. I had learned that much in our time together. She must have sensed that Isis had been moved because her arm moved slightly, as if searching for the creature it had been cradling. I reached out and guided her hand to my side before placing my own arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. She shifted her head on the pillow and moved to settle it closer to mine.

When sleep prepared to take me, I felt a cold nose and whiskers tickle the bottom of my feet. Isis had been unimpressed by her relocation and was making her way up the bed by sneaking under the covers. I moved slightly and felt as the cat's tail twitch back and forth with each stride. Not a minute later, she was nested between us, purring as contently as she had been when I had rubbed her belly.

Her forepaw rested itself against my navel and I smirked, "Truce."

V

First and foremost, I was wearing the gaudiest fake leopard hat and coat I had ever seen in my life. Secondly, I was making my way through the rowdiest bar I had ever seen in my life, Ye Olde Benbow Tavern, walking towards a small flight of stairs. At the top, I paused before a man who looked like an extra from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in Disney World. He saluted me and said, "Ahoy, Catwoman."

I promptly smacked him and hissed, "Imbecile, how many times I have told you to never use my real name in public!" I then thought… But that's not my real name? Stomping passed him, I went to open the door behind him and paused to read a small orange sign: UU Headquarters VERY PRIVATE! It took a second to figure out the acronym: United Underworld Headquarters. I continued on and walked into a room, stale with sea air and cigarette smoke.

Shabby furniture was only insulted further by shabbier occupants. Small clusters of outlandishly garbed individuals argued and quarreled over who was the best criminal and who had been the closest to killing Batman. I noted the Riddler, Penguin and the Joker fighting in one corner while Egghead and King Tut shouted in another. As I turned to look behind me, I spotted Mr. Freeze himself, sitting next to an air conditioning unit that had frosted over. And where there wasn't a villain, there was a villain thug. Dressed in solid uniforms with their names printed over their pectorals. With the exception to the poor souls who worked for Tut, they wore second-rate Egyptian rental costumes.

The next thing I realized was that the room itself was nearly as crooked as the crooks that stood around me. Despite my confusion, I smirked, They're not on the level…

My presence still unnoticed in the heated debates, I looked across the room towards a large window where a row of bookshelves rested, overflowing with books, fish tanks and boxes. There were even labels designating sections to each criminal. Riddles: PRIVATE, Jokes: PRIVATE, Penguin Food: PRIVATE… Obviously the best place to keep private materials was on a bookshelf, right out in the open.

On the adjacent wall was a massive poster depicting a cartoon octopus engulfing the world. In bold print, it read: Today Gotham City, Tomorrow the World.

Right…

Just as I was about to announce my arrival, Riddler shoved the Penguin into the bookshelf I had just been studying, causing a flowerpot on the top shelf to fall directly onto the unsuspecting King Tut. I watched as he stumbled, blinked and then looked about the room, "What is this… I, I'm late for my Egyptology 101 class… My students…"

That was it.

"Enough, already!" I snapped.

"Hoo hoo hoo, Catwoman," the Joker sneered, "You're here just in time…"

I took my coat and hat off, revealing a black, shimmering suit with long black gloves that ended with gold claws and a headband with cat ears. A bit much, but it was better than the fake fur. "How so?"

Riddler had also taking to giggling as he turned on a security monitor to reveal a black and white image of the Batmobile parked on the pier, Batman and Robin… the original, pixie boot sporting Dick Grayson Robin, already getting out. It was an older model, one that was kept in storage, one that could barely hit sixty-five miles per an hour. Instead of concealing it in an alleyway, they had parked in front of a meter. Batman stopped pulled two quarters out of his utility belt and dropped them into the meter.

To make it worse, there was sound.

Batman's voice then came from the tiny monitor, "It's always important to honor parking meters, Robin. Albeit a mere two quarters, the city uses each and every one to help build better roads... pay police officers' salaries... improve the infrastructure. It's all part of good citizenship, chum."

The Boy Hostage replied, "Holy taxation. You're right, again, Batman."

Penguin then returned to the group, "When they come in here, quack quack, all they'll have to do is step onto the disclosed launch pad and then, they'll be airborne, out that window, quack quack, and will land into the welcoming arms of my exploding octopus!"

"An exploding what?" I glared, the animal welfarist in me growing angry.

"An exploding octopussy!" Joker screamed as he danced about the room.

I was about to say that this was insane, but then realized it would be as useful as counting grains of sand at the beach. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I heard the baritone-accented voice of Freeze.

Singing.

"I'm Mr. Vite Christmas, I'm Mr. Snow…"

"Kill me now," I muttered.

Penguin, Riddler and Joker had been adamantly watching their security monitor as it switched views, tracking the dynamic duo as they ran, in a rather girly fashion, in our direction. It wouldn't be long before they would crash through the door, have an excessively long and drawn out fight with the thugs before knocking everyone out and saving the day, as usual.

I decided to find a seat and to just enjoy watching everything fall apart.

Just before Batman and Robin crashed through the door, Penguin snapped at his men, "Ahoy, be ready to take out the caped crusaders!"

"Yo ho ho, sir!" they shouted in unison as they stood and faced the door just as it flung open.

The fight was indeed excessive, with too much energy being wasted on teamwork and sucker punches. I watched the clock on the wall and noted that it took two minutes on average for Batman to knock out a thug and only seconds more for the Boy Wonder to do the same. At one point, Robin was flung into the bookcase and a bookend slid off, conking poor Tut in the head. He did the stumble and blinking bit again and then shouted out, "All hail King Tut!"

Egg-Head laughed, with himself because no one ever really liked him anyway, "How Eggs-ellent!"

And then Freeze calling out, "Baht-man isn't going to put ME in dah coo-lah!" He took two steps away from the AC unit before passing out.

Oh, brother.

Tired, I stood and growled, "Enough! I'll show you how to stop Batman!"

The room silenced as I walked over to the surprisingly unscathed Batman. His eyes widened, and I wasn't sure if it had been from shock or admiration. Or both.

"Catwoman, I would have never expected you to take up arms with these… cowardly criminals. I'll do everything in my power to reform you."

I traced the bat-emblem on his chest and purred, "Marry me."

"… Anything but that. A wife... no matter how loving... and... supportive... would be a serious impediment in a crime fighter's career," he stammered.

Words weren't working with him. I went for action. As I tried to kiss him, he pulled away.

"Catwoman, kissing can be... an extremely unsanitary exercise... where bacteria can be easily transmitted. Proper hygiene... is one of the things I'm teaching Robin about..."

The Boy Blunder butted in, punching a clenched fist into his other hand, "Your feminine seduction won't work on us, Catwoman!"

Not even going there…

I leaned my body against Batman and whispered into his ear, "Shhh. Think about it... coming home to your Batcave... Having someone to curl up with…"

"But...What about... Robin?"

"ROBIN!" I snapped before shoving him away from me in utter disbelief. I could handle being as a lone criminal in the midst of working with all the insane rogues of the city. I could deal with the fact that the slanted room was an inside joke that apparently I was the only one who got. And Batman being so rigid and unyielding that I want to check his pulse, okay. But him choosing Robin instead of me!  
**  
** Before I could claw his eyes out, I realized the room was fading from the dank shabbiness and bright colors to the dark, familiar surroundings of my bedroom. I sat up and looked over to see Bruce sleeping peacefully beside me.

Dream or no dream, I grabbed my pillow and whacked him with it.**  
**

V

Who goes to the Outer Banks for a week and writes three chapters of fic, honestly….


	19. One And Only: XIX

Title: One And Only: XVIII

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the (what is now, I guess) the Time Will Tell Series. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: Jim Gordon's new friend is influenced by the "character" Spike seen in Jonathan Kellerman's Alex Delaware novels.

He he he… crossword puzzle… You'll get it, just read.

V

My doctor said to help keep the old ticker ticking and to help keep my legs strong that I should walk fifteen miles a day in five mile increments. Most of the time, I had a three-mile walk first thing in the morning and a two-mile walk after dinner at my own pace. On a rare occasion I wanted company, I picked up Barbara and we toured Robinson Park together.

Now I had more company than I wanted.

Living alone had been something I had grown to learn to deal with. After years of aggravation and over stimulation as a cop in both Chicago and Gotham, a failed marriage and an abruptly ended marriage, the peace and quiet one could only obtain from solitude was priceless. Unfortunately, my daughter thought it was silly for me to be holed up all alone in the house, especially after my retirement.

Her solution: a French bulldog named Frank.

Apparently, he had been a stray that Cassandra had brought home one evening three weeks earlier. After Barbara had him checked out at the veterinarian and no claim of ownership was made after the necessary two weeks of found ads in the paper, she dropped him and his squeaky newspaper toy off on my front door.

He was twenty-eight pounds of black brindled muscle packed into a compact stout body and flat-faced head. His ears pricked upright when you poured his kibble into a bowl and whenever you opened the refrigerator. For the most part he was all right, after all he was house broke, heeled and chased the neighbor's cats off of my front porch. But even still, solitude did not include having a snorting, grunting black mini-bull dog.

But having him under my care did alter my daily schedule. I walked all fifteen miles every day, in five-mile increments at six in the morning, two in the afternoon and eight in the evening. Good for my heart, but it also made Frank sleep more.

We had just returned from our morning walk, of which was only four miles. Halfway through, I felt my toe poke through the end of my sock and decided it wasn't worth the torturous itching to finish the fifth mile.

With the news playing on the living room television, I poured coffee into a blue mug after popping a bagel in the toaster oven. Waiting for the timer, I sighed as I measured out a cup of dog food from the small green bag on the counter and poured it into a ceramic dog bowl that was a similar hue as my coffee mug. Frank was perched on his haunches at my feet, a thin lace of drool making its way from his flews to the floor. I set the bowl down and watched on as the feeding frenzy ensued. For such a little guy he had quite the appetite.

As the kitchen filled with crunching and soft grunts of effort, the phone rang. I walked over to the portable that hung on the wall and picked up on the second ring, wondering as to who would be calling at seven in the morning, "Hello?"

"Dad? It's me."

I smiled, always glad to hear Barbara's voice, "Sweetheart, what are you doing up this early?"

"To tell you the truth, Dad, I haven't been to bed yet. Was just getting ready to. Wanted to say good morning."

"That's sweet," I commented before asking, "Was it a busy night? I didn't hear much on the scanner…"

"Well, no, it was just that Bruce was on his own, so I spent most of the night routing things out for him and keeping track of the scanner and calls." I asked why he was alone and she explained, "Oh, Tim and Cassandra are camping this week with a few of Tim's friends from college."

I nodded and looked down at Frank as he licked his bowl clean. Before I could respond to her verbally, the timer went off on the toaster. I pulled a knife from the drawer and the cream cheese from the fridge before walking over to retrieve my bagel. "Well, it's a perfect week for it. Did they go far?"

"No, just outside of town, Rockledge State Park. They'll be back Sunday afternoon, I think."

"What about Dick?"

She paused and laughed quietly, "He sprained his ankle yesterday. Tried to jump from one apartment building to the next and slipped on pigeon poo. Leslie will have his head on a silver platter if he shows himself on the vigilante scene for the next two weeks."

I suddenly thought that it was like back in the old days, Bruce handling the city on his own, but kept it to myself.

As I layered my bagel with cream cheese, Frank had sat once more at my feet, eye balling my breakfast with the same focus he had shown when I had poured his meal moments earlier.

"So how's my little man?" Barbara asked, the lightness in her voice a mixture of fatigue and affection for the squat little dog.

I glared down at his unblinking form, "He's fine. And ready for his second breakfast."

I explained how he was begging with a full belly and she laughed, "No wonder he and Dick got along so well. He wanted to keep him but I had a gut feeling that it wouldn't have been long before I was the one taking the dog out in the morning… But you're getting along all right?"

"Sure, he doesn't fight for the remote control, doesn't snore louder than I do and he licks dirty dishes until they sparkle." Although I wouldn't admit it, he was a good companion. I had caught myself more than once talking to him while I picked out clothes for the day or tried to figure out a grocery list. And he had gone from sleeping on a towel in the kitchen to sleeping beside me in bed. But I drew the line at him getting under the covers.

Unless it was a chilly night.

"No, we're getting along just fine… But I better let you get to bed."

She stifled a yawn, "Yeah, I probably should get going. Listen, Dad, are you free Sunday night for dinner? Dick wanted to talk to you about a few things."

"Of course."

She told me what time to come over to her place and added, "I'll even make apple crumb cake."

I laughed softly, "Can't wait. See you then."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart."

After I hung up the phone, I heard Frank grumble from below. I picked up my coffee and bagel and walked into the living room, the dog right at my heels. When I sat in the leather recliner, he sat before me, brown eyes wide and charming. After the first bite I heard him moan softly. The fourth bite was met with a soft grumble. When I had eaten one half of the bagel, I felt a tiny forepaw on my shin.

As the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, I had been faced the worst the city has to offer without blinking an eye.

As the ex-commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, I had to face the oddly cute mug of a Frenchie and it took all of my strength to keep from hand feeding him my breakfast.

V

"Dad, are you watching!"

I looked over my shoulder and saw him smiling and waving at me from the end of the arena.

This was the first time Dad had come to see me ride in a long time. And what was even better was that Mom was there as well, taking pictures of me as I rode Rusty. He was by far my favorite pony, not only because he was fun to ride and could even bow on cue, but also because of his color. His body was a sandy color and his legs and his mane and tail were black. Janet, my instructor, said it was called a buckskin color, because he also had a black line running down his back.

After making sure Dad was watching, I sat deep in the saddle and squeezed my right leg, the one closest to the rail and made a kissing noise. Not a moment later, Rusty dropped his head slightly and picked up his canter. I loved cantering; it was faster than his bouncy trot and was much easier to sit to.

As I rounded the corner, I aimed Rusty down the long side of the riding ring and smiled. Not many girls my age could ride at the three-beated gait, according to Janet. She said I had a natural balance that made riding that much easier. I told her I did gymnastics with Dick and she said that would help me as a rider. Although I rode almost all year round, in the last month that I had been out of school, I had ridden almost every morning. Mom had even come a few times to ride as well.

Now if only I could convince Dad to buy me a pony…

When I neared the end of the ring where Mom and Dad were leaning against the fence, I pulled back on the reins slightly and put my heels down, "Walk, Rusty."

The pony broke to a trot, causing me to bounce a few times before he settled down to a walk. I steered him to the rail and asked him to stop, of which he did without hesitation, "Did you see me, Dad, did you see?"

He was smiling, "Yes, you did great, kitten."

"He goes even faster if you ask him, Dad, almost galloping!"

"Well," Mom interrupted, "I don't think you should try that out today."

I sighed before reaching over to pat Rusty's shoulder. The pony nodded his head slightly, "You'd like to gallop, wouldn't you boy?"

He nodded again and Mom laughed before saying, "Well, you better walk him out so you can put him up."

"Just one more canter, please, Mom?"

She shook her head, "No, kiddo, he looks pretty tired. And it's too warm outside."

Another sigh. I pulled my feet out to of the stirrup irons and pulled them up before pulling the leather straps through. Once done, I slid my right leg behind me and then hopped onto the ground. When I rode horses in my lessons, I had to use the step stool to get on and off. But with Rusty being shorter, I had no problem getting on an off all by myself. After all, he was only four and a half feet at the highest point in his back.

After I pulled the reins over his head, I lead him around the outdoor ring twice. Mom and Dad talked the entire time but Dad kept his eyes on me. I patted Rusty's neck and said, "I think he's starting like you." The pony nudged me with his muzzle and I laughed. He must be starting to like Dad, too.

It took fifteen minutes for me to untack and brush him off in the barn. Mom and Dad had been there to help me take the saddle and bridle off, but once I started to brush him out, they slipped into the office with Janet. Probably scheduling my next riding lesson. That day had been just for fun, an hour of free riding outside.

I hummed along with the radio that was playing and finished up by kissing Rusty's nose and giving him a few pieces of carrots. Once I put him in his stall and put away his brush box, Dad and Mom had returned and were waiting for me.

"Ready, kitten?" Dad asked.

I nodded as I grabbed my riding helmet off of a wall hook.

"What are we doing now?" I asked as we headed to the door at the end of the barn.

Mom took my hand into hers, "Well, we have to go home, you have to wash up and change, and then we can have lunch if you're hungry."

I patted my stomach, "Sounds good to me."

She smiled back, "I thought it would."

The second we got home I headed upstairs to change into shorts and a tank top and to wash my face and hands. Later that afternoon, I had my first summer soccer practice, so my cleats and shin guards were already laid out on my bedroom floor. Tim and Cass had been coming over most afternoons to practice with me, but instead of goal nets we had small orange cones set up at either end of the back yard.

Since Alfred wasn't back yet from the gardening store, Mom was making lunch. I walked into the kitchen and saw that she was making BLT's. I asked what I could help with and she said I could rip up the lettuce that was in the bowl on the counter. As climbed a stool and rolled up my sleeves, I asked, "Where's Dad?"

"He went upstairs; he'll be down in a minute."

And he was, still dressed in his jeans and polo shirt. He paused beside me and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Chopping lettuce. We're having BLT's, Dad." I lifted a leaf of lettuce towards his face and giggled when he took a bite of it.

"What?" Mom asked, her back to us as she put bread in the toaster.

"Nothing," he said after taking the rest of the lettuce from my hand. I watched as he poured himself a cup of coffee before leaning against the counter, "Were you taking her to soccer?"

I looked over at Mom just in time for her to answer, "Alfred and I are attacking the garden this afternoon. But I can if you can't."

"No, that's all right, I can take her."

I didn't like it when they talked like I wasn't there. It didn't happen that often, but when it did, I hated it.

"What time's practice, kitten?"

I had resumed picking apart the lettuce, "Three to four."

"Perfect. Mind if I stay and watch?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

"You can be the waterboy, Bruce."

He glared at her briefly, but I laughed. It was funny to think of Dad as being in charge of filling cups of cool water for all of my team members. Last summer, the coach and assistant coach couldn't make it so he had to substitute. It had been fun for the most part, lots of running and jumping and stretching. But not enough actual soccer. Halfway through the practice most of my teammates had sat down in the middle of the field, refusing to listen to him.

Maybe being in charge of the water was a job even he could handle.

V

While trimming the rose bushes, I watched on as Ms. Selina mixed plant food into the soil of the flowerbeds. We had been working our way around the house, section by section, preening, planting and enriching the soil. After four hours, our faces were red from the sun and our clothes were gritty with dirt.

She must have noticed how long our efforts had grown to, for she glanced at her watch and sighed, "Whew. Didn't even realize… This house is too damned big."

I chuckled, "My thoughts exactly." After putting my trimming shears in the small utility case that housed the smaller gardening tools, I stood slowly and dusted off my palms and then my trousers. She spread out one more handful of plant food and then removed her gloves, shaking them free of dirt. After she stood herself, I asked, "May I inquire as to when Master Bruce and Miss Mattie will return?"

"Should be soon, actually. Practice let out twenty five minutes ago."

"Ah. And how did the stable adventure fair this morning?"

She smiled shyly and looked over at me, "He did it. He finally bought that pony for Mattie. But his condition was that he was going to be the one to tell her and he would decide when."

"How wonderful of him to do so." Miss Mattie had been infatuated with her equine partner for well over a year now. Pictures of him donned her bedroom walls and she spoke of him whenever she could find a spot for the topic in general conversation. Master Bruce had been weary for some time of actually investing in a mount for her. Fortunately, not only his daughter's pleadings, but his wife's had recently cracked his defensive shell as well.

I volunteered to return the gardening tools to the utility storage located in the rear of the garage. Ms. Selina thanked me and said she would fix iced tea. Before I could state that I could prepare the beverage upon my return, Ms. Selina turned and headed for the rear exit into the Manor.

Ten minutes later, I walked briskly into the kitchenette to see that the cool refreshment was for more than just Ms. Selina and myself. Master Bruce and Miss Mattie had returned from the afternoon's soccer practice at the Bristol Middle School's athletic fields and had joined her in the kitchen for iced tea. After rinsing my hands in the sink and toweling them off, I took a glass of cool tea and sipped gingerly.

"How was it?" Ms. Selina inquired.

After taking a big sip, Miss Mattie smiled, "Great. Katrina's dad is coaching the team this year instead of her mom."

Ms. Selina's brow arched, "Oh. Did he say why?"

"Yep, her mom's having another baby."

The look of happiness that overcame Ms. Selina's features was only challenged by the look of fear that shadowed Master Bruce's. Although the birth of their daughter had been a blessed event, it had also been an unexpected one. Discussion of further procreation had never ended well, and it usually involved Master Bruce retreating to the dark recesses of the Cave. Katrina's mother, as far as I could recall, was a similar age to Ms. Selina, but had two children already, and apparently a third on the way.

"That's great," she commented, her eyes trying to lock with Master Bruce's.

He turned away from her and set his empty glass in the sink, "Mattie, why don't we go upstairs and get washed up and changed for dinner?" The child nodded and then mimicked him by putting her small glass beside his in the sink and then followed him out into the hallway.

After tending to my glass and the two in the sink, I placed the pitcher of tea in the refrigerator and then went about wiping the spotless countertop. I heard Ms. Selina sigh, "Well, I better get washed up and changed too, I guess. I think our reservations are for seven."

I recollected the call I had made to Dorsea three days earlier, "Yes, seven sharp, madam."

"And just what are you going to do with your evening off?" she asked.

"I haven't the foggiest, Ms. Selina. Perhaps a drive about town would be in order."

"Ah yes. To a certain free-clinic run by a certain lady doctor."

I turned to face her, doing my best to keep my expression blank, "I have no idea as to what you are referring to, madam… But it does seem to be a splendid idea."

She took a step towards me, kissed my cheek and then left saying, "Take care Alfred. And behave."

I paused, staring out the broad window that was over the kitchen sink, and then said, "The same to you, Selina…"

V

"Barbara… my ice pack is too cold," I moaned from my chair in the living room.

She growled in response loud enough for me to hear her from the bedroom, "Richard!"

"Well, it is," I mumbled before readjusting the towel wrapped pack on my leg.

In my life, I had done far worse than a sprained ankle. Even still, I was milking my quasi-injury for all it was worth. The bruise from falling on my ass actually was more painful than my sore ankle. Barbara had yet to show any sympathy for my troubles, mostly because she thought it was hilarious that I had slipped on bird crap. That and she knew I wasn't in any real amount of pain, despite my whining.

I sighed in defeat and finished of my bottle of cream soda before setting it on the end table. Not a moment later, Barbara came into the room and paused beside me, doing her best to appear miffed. "You rang?"

"No, it's much warmer now, thanks," I tried a cheesy grin and she rolled her eyes at me. When she asked what I wanted to do for dinner I shrugged, "Take out?"

Barbara leaned against the arm of my chair, "Darling, there are over three hundred delivery service restaurants in the city. From where do you wish to get take out?"

I leaned towards her, gently pressing my nose to hers, "How about one of those three hundred restaurants."

She batted her eyes, "Richard, if you don't choose, I'm going to bite your nose off Hannibal Lecter style."

I bared my teeth in a full grin, "The lady likes red meat. How about Cassidy's Grill, pair of steak burgers, some steak sauce, steak fries and steak… flavored soda."

As she laughed, her nose tickled mine. I leaned in for a quick kiss and told her I wanted my burger rare.

"Oh? I don't think so. How about you order, seeing how your mouth sure hasn't been impended upon by your recent misfortunes on the rooftops." After she handed me the portable phone, she turned and headed back towards the bedroom.

I waited a minute before calling out, "Hey, Babs, why don't I go ahead and order dinner, that way you can take care of whatever it is you have to take care of."

She answered, "Brilliant idea, Dick."

I dialed the long since memorized digits and listened to three quick rings before a young male voice answered, "Cassidy's Bar and Grill."

"Hi, can I get two steak burgers, one rare, one medium rare, two sides of steak fries and two side salads."

"Sure thing. Name please."

"Uh, Grayson. The address is---."

"Sorry, sir, we don't deliver anymore. We do offer a quick carry out."

Great, of the all the restaurants in Gotham, I picked the one that didn't deliver. Time to think on your feet, I told myself. I looked at my bandage wrapped ankle, "Right… You see, my girl friend and I are fairly infirm following a, uh, car accident… and we're both on practical bed rest until September, and I know it would mean the world to Barbara if her first real meal since getting out of the ICU was Cassidy's…"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but---."

"And there would be an extra hundred as a sign of appreciation, in consideration of our dilemma."

I held my breath as no response came. As I bit my lip to keep from laughing, I listened to a muffled conversation on the other end of the line in addition to some sports game on the television and lots of cheering. Finally, after a full minute, "Sir, what was the address again?"

Not thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I handed Barbara the money and she went to answer it. I listened silently from the living room as the delivery boy took the money and handed over the food, apologizing profusely for the accident and wishing both of us a speedy recovery. After the door closed, I began snickering uncontrollably while Barbara made her way down the hall towards me. By the time she made it back to the living room, I was laughing so hard that my eyes were on the verge of watering.

"Dick, can I ask what accident he was referring to? And why you gave him a hundred dollar tip?"

I did my best to control myself long enough to answer, "Oh, they don't deliver and I didn't want the hassle of going and picking the food up." I let out a brief laugh before explaining my con. By the end she was laughing as well.

"Well, nothing like a little creativity. Do you want to eat in here or in the dining room?"

I shrugged, "Dining room is all right. Besides, I should get up, get the blood circulating."

As she left to take the food into the next room, I reached for my crutches, watching her as she went. When I was sure Barbara was out of sight, I set the crutches back down and began to push myself out of the chair. I carefully put both of my feet flat on the floor, but bore all of my weight on my good foot. After a deep breath, I stood up and attempted to put weight onto my left foot.

About a ten pounds of pressure, I winced.

About twenty-five pounds, I bit my lip to keep from making a sound.

At fifty pounds, I fell back onto the chair.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best time to test my pain tolerance. I grabbed the crutches and stood. Maneuvering down the hall was easy enough and I stood in the dining room entrance way not a minute after I had started walking. Or hobbling, rather. Barbara had set the brown paper bag emblazoned with the flaming Cassidy's logo on the table, but she was nowhere in sight. I walked through the room and into the kitchen's side entrance and found her getting silverware, plates and wine glasses.

"Ooo, boozing it up are we?" I snickered while swaying back in forth, balancing my weight from one crutch to the other.

She smiled, "Might as well. Selina brought down a bottle of Merlot the other day. Might as well put it to use."

I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I hear it helps wash down Ibuprofen tablets real swell."

"Like you've been taking them. There's the same number of tablets in that bottle as when I bought it."

I hung my head slightly, studying the tiled floor, "Ah, shucks. I'm busted."

"Be a doll, bring the bottle. It's over by the toaster," she said while placing the dishware in her lap. I did so and followed her back into the den, slightly slower now that I had to juggle crutches and expensive wine. By the time I made it, she had the plates set and was removing the plastic containers from the bag, "Salads too? How health conscious of you."

"Well, the harm from deep fried fries and fat drizzling burgers are cancelled out by a tiny bowl of lettuce, tomatoes and onions, right?"

While we ate, conversation was limited. I hadn't eaten anything since before noon and that had been a bologna sandwich. And knowing Barbara, she had yet to imbibe in anything since her midday granola bar. Halfway through the colossus that was my burger, I put it down, wiped my face and stated, "You know what, I like Cass being gone."

"What?" Barbara asked suddenly, apparently confused by my words.

"Not like that… You know, how we can have time to ourselves, to do things together."

She sipped her wine before asking, "And what kinds of things are you referring to?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, putting together a puzzle, going through the things in Cass's room… Having a nice, cardiac arrest inducing dinner… those sorts of things."

"I see." She picked up a French fry, nibbled on the end of it and put it back down, "Dick, can I ask you something?" I nodded before she elaborated, "Promise not to get mad?"

"Cross my heart."

She folded her napkin and set it beside her plate, of which held a majority of her uneaten meal. Barbara looked up at me and asked, "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"With your life, what do you want to do?"

I paused for a moment, in hopes to actually think before I spoke. I'd touched on the topic several times but I had never really offered her a definite answer. Three weeks earlier, I had gone back to Bludaven for a night to hang out with the gang from homicide, men and women I used to consider to be my extended family. Being back in that atmosphere, the desperation of unsolved cases battling against good cops who were unwilling to surrender, that I realized how much I had missed it. We had gathered at a bar named O'Reily's, one of a dozen that BPD officers frequented after shifts ended, and I had been asked countless times if I was planning on coming back.

In my absence, they had lost a small handful on the homicide beat, aside from me: Trey Richardson and Grant Morris. Trey had left homicide, despite his promotion, and had joined the ranks of SWAT. Because of his marksmanship, he was quickly learning the ropes of becoming a sniper. And he was in love with a forensic technician named for the Gotham City crime lab, Lindsey Wright.

Grant Morris, The Bear, the man that scared the pants of rookies more than any other senior detective in the history of Bludhaven had retired due to his health. It had been unexpected and unannounced to all of the detectives; as Morris had never seemed anything but healthy and energetic, especially while barking orders and switching desks on April Fool's. Apparently he had been battling a number of ailments in secret, the worst of which was prostate cancer. I had called his home several times since I had gone to the Haven, and he had called back three nights earlier. We had talked for most of the afternoon about his progress and the bullshit that was life. Same old Bear.

Since then, I had taken my future a bit more seriously. So much had changed in the last year alone, that I didn't know where to even begin to settle back into life. Being in Gotham with Barbara had been great, and working patrols at night had been easy compared to Bludhaven. Whenever Barbara had inquired about my plans, I had given her the same nonchalant answer: I don't know yet.

Time to change…

"Well, I have been thinking about it some more… And I've been thinking that maybe the security consultant thing could be worth a try. I mean, it's not like I'm going to loose any money if it flops… And if it pans out, who knows…"

Barbara smiled, "Very well thought out, Dick. Impressive."

I did my best to keep a straight face; "Yeah I thought so, too," I pretended to spit on the floor and then scratched my armpit, "Ought to have a whole shit load of clients in no time."

"There's no doubt in my mind," she said, already starting to laugh. "Hey, you know if you really do this, I bet Dad would love to help."

I picked up the complimentary dill pickle off of my plate and bit off half of it, "Not a bad idea, after all, he has way more contacts in this city than former Detective Dick Grayson." A look came over her face and I asked, "Did you tell him already?"

"No. But I invited him over for dinner tomorrow night."

I sighed and then smiled, knowing if she hadn't done so, I probably wouldn't have been motivated to actually work on anything related to starting up work again.

Barbara added, "You'll have to get a moustache, too, all great detectives have a moustache."

"Yeah to get the babes like Magnum…" I smirked, "That'll have to go in the business plan. Personal expenses: glue on moustache. And a Nightwing mouse pad."

V

I had planned on telling her at some point. I just didn't know when.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Selina through the open bathroom door as she blow-dried her hair. She had just showered after returning from the stable with Mattie. I had also just gotten home from work, traffic out of control with detours from St. James being under heavy construction. Apparently, I was in need of a lecture.

I noticed her lips moving, but a wave of hair and her moving hands prevented me from reading her lips. After a moment, I decided that she was just talking to herself. As I removed my shoes and socks, I was taken aback when she threw a wet washcloth at me.

"What?" I called back while pushing the cloth onto the floor.

She spoke over the blow dryer but I still couldn't make out her words. Instead of having another damp cloth thrown at me for not having super hearing, I stood, walked into the bathroom and unplugged the appliance. She stood straight, flipped her mass of black hair over her head. Before she could reprimand me, I asked, "What were you saying, dear?"

Selina smirked softly, in a way that could either be taken as flirtatious or murderous. "I said, you need to stop torturing your daughter and tell her about that pony."

I sighed, "Okay. I will."

"I mean it Bruce. I had to sit there and watch her talk to his cute little face this afternoon. Had to watch her kiss his nose, tell him that he was her favoritest pony in the whole wide world."

I had been the official owner the Welsh-Connemara cross pony, Rustic Renditions, AKA Rusty, over a week. And I had yet to inform my equine-obsessed daughter that her favorite lesson pony was now hers.

"I will. Tonight after dinner."

"You better," she said as she leaned against me, pushing my backside into the bathroom counter.

"You have my word," I said quietly, deciding her smirk had been a positive sign.

I watched as she nibbled at her lower lip briefly before looking up at me. I leaned in for the kiss I had presumed she had wanted when I heard a soft click from behind me shortly before a hot blast of air went down the front of my pants.

In a quick move, I latched a hand on the blow dryer and my other on Selina's wrist while kicking out to shut the door. I then turned the dryer on my attacker, messing up her hair and blowing at her face. She reached out with her free hand and pulled the plug, laughing and cursing my name at the same time. I released my hold and set the dryer on the countertop before leaning back against it.

"That was mean," she said while fixing her hair.

"You started it."

She was about to respond when we heard a quiet knock on the door, followed by, "Dad? Mom? Are you in there?"

I leaned forward, resting my brow on Selina's shoulder.

"Yes," Selina replied as I began planting my lips on her collarbone "We'll be out in a second."

"Oh… What are you doing in there?"

As I settled my hands on her hips, I kissed the skin just behind her ear.

"Uh, I just got out of the shower, sweetie."

There was a pause then, "But why's Dad in there too?"

I planted a kiss on her lips before retreating so that she could reply, "He had to wash his hands."

"Oh… Okay."

Selina pushed away from me and began combing through her hair as I remained at the counter. She had half of her thick curls tamed before she looked over at me, "Go tell her."

"I was going to after dinn---."

"Now."

I glared at her, leaned over and kissed her cheek and then left the bathroom. Mattie was lying on her back on our bed, her head hanging off the edge. When she saw me, she grinned and waved, "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, kitten."

Slowly, I walked across the room and sat on the bed beside her. She reached out and tugged on my shirtsleeve and said, "Lay like me."

I nodded and did so. Once my vision showed the room to be upside down, I said, "Mattie I have something to tell you."

"What?" she asked as her hand found mine and squeezed it.

Even though I hadn't really planned out how I was going to tell her, I took a deep breath and just went for it, "I want to let you know I'm very proud of how well you're doing with your riding. You've been very dedicated… active and you've stuck with it."

"It's really fun, Dad. You should try it."

"I have. Not recently, but I rode when I was your age."

"Did you have a pony?"

I nodded, although it took quite an effort in light of my upside down position.

"What was his name?"

"Tucker."

"What happened to Tucker, Dad?"

Her fingers had wrapped around my thumb. I sighed, "I stopped riding when I was eight. He was sold to a new owner."

"Why did you stop riding?"

There was a very good reason why, but I couldn't tell her. Instead of explaining how my parents had been murdered and I had been left a revenge driven orphan, I told her that I had just lost interest.

"Oh. I'll never stop riding, Dad. Never ever."

"That's a good thing," I looked over at her, withholding a smile at the sight of her black curls hanging from her head.

"It is?" she asked, turning her head to face mine.

"Yes. Because you have a responsibility now."

"Like you do? For work?"

I sighed, "Sort of. But your job is to take extra special care of Rusty."

"I do already."

"I know you do. But now, you can do more, because he is yours."

Her eyes widened, revealing the icy irises I had fallen in love with the very first time I had seen them. "Really?"

I nodded.

Before I could say another word, she leapt onto me, wrapping her arms around my neck, squeezing the very breath from me, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

I managed a small breath, "You're welcome."

She continued to repeat her thanks and love for me long after Selina emerged from the bathroom, dressed and smiling. When Mattie looked up and saw her, she jumped off of the bed and attacked her mother, declaring that I had bought Rusty. Selina acted surprised and knelt to hug the exuberant child.

As oxygen returned to my lungs, I sat up slowly, ignoring the slow pulsing in my head. It wasn't long before Mattie returned to jump back onto the bed in order to put the sleeper hold on me once more.

A half of an hour later, she had run down stairs to tell Alfred, had returned upstairs to thank me again and with the help of her mother, had called her friends Katrina and Marsha as well as Barbara, Jim, Leslie, Clark and had left messages on Tim, Cassandra and Dick's cell phones.

As she finally settled down, Selina had Mattie go wash up for dinner. I was sitting exactly where I had been when I had come home from work, only this time Selina was sitting next to me, leaning against my shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, she said, "You just made that girl's century."

"Millennium," I smirked.

Another minute of silence, "Tim and Cassandra come home today, right?"

I nodded.

"So could one expect you to be home earlier than you have been in the last few nights?"

"Perhaps," I said, "Why?"

"No reason. Thought we might…" she paused as Mattie walked into the room, still beaming, "I thought we might finish that crossword puzzle from Sunday's paper."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I smirked.

"Can I help?" Mattie asked as she crawled up onto my lap.

I kissed the top of my daughter's head, "Sorry, kitten, but it's more for, uh, adults." I helped her down to the floor before standing. Selina bit her lip to keep from laughing and stood as well.

As we walked out of the room and headed for the stairs, Selina whispered, "Good save there, Bruce."

"At least I didn't lie to her."

She smacked the back of my head. Then took my hand into hers.

Ah, love.

V


	20. One And Only: XX

Title: One And Only: XX

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the Series of Three storyline. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: There is a brief reference made by Alfred to a scene from the WB's Batman Begins Exclusive Preview (of which I have watched about a thousand times because it is so utterly awesome)

Brief References made to comic continuity, especially Robin: Year One

Warning: If you tend to get misty-eyed, get out the tissues for the last POV.

V

When I woke at five-thirty on the first of August, my first task was to change the calendar page that was on my desk. With the sky still dark with the late night's storm clouds and awaiting the sun's arrival, I turned my desk lamp on in order to provide some illumination. The night before I had written on the last page of my leather bound journal. Usually, I had empty notebooks on reserve, but this had been the first time in far too long that I did not.

Old age, I chided myself.

After writing out a list of necessary activities for the day, I donned my housecoat and made my way to the stairs. On my way to the kitchen, I bypassed the study and paused in mid-stride. Although the room was dark, it was not difficult to see Master Bruce seated in one of the leather chairs in front of the fireplace, staring at blackened logs and cold ash.

"Master Bruce?" I asked while stepping into the room, "Is everything all right?"

He remained motionless, causing a sensation of fear to grow within me. On his very first night out, before the Batman had been officially adopted as his other persona, I had found him in the very chair he was sitting in, bleeding, barely conscious and staring listlessly at the shattered windows. He had nearly died that night.

"Sir?" I asked, walking quickly to his side.

As I paused in front of him, I noticed his eyes were open and that for the most part he was unscathed. A slight bruise had formed on his lower jaw and faded upward towards his right eye. He sat slouching, legs spread and arms resting on the panels of the chair, no doubt exhausted from whatever ventures he had faced during the night. Before I could say his name again, he blinked slowly and looked towards me, turning his head as if it were a great challenge.

"Alfred."

"Sir, are you all right?"

He took a moment to respond, "No…" he shook his head, "I mean yes, I'm all right."

"I hate to argue with you at this hour, sir, but you do not look well at all."

He leaned forward slightly, running his hands through his hair, "I… couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake Selina."

I wanted to tell him that he could have woken me, but I remained quiet. Although Master Bruce had never been the kind to voluntarily discuss whatever was bothering him, I found that he could occasionally be forthcoming if enough pressured silence was applied. I excused myself temporarily and fetched him a glass of ice water. Upon my return, I had noticed that he had sat back in the chair and had closed his eyes.

The darkness under his eyes had been the product of several sleepless nights. It seemed that his returns from patrols had become later and later, of which was troubling in itself. For the past several years, it seemed he had made all possible efforts to return as soon as he could in order to be with his wife and to rest for a day with his daughter. Over the last few weeks, his pattern had noticeably been altered. Longer patrols, less sleep and less time with his family.

A pattern of behavior he had adopted for years and had fortunately been long since renounced.

I offered him the glass and he took it into his hand but did not drink from it. Not about to leave him without discovering what was at the heart of his problem, I pulled over a matching chair and sat beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at me, as if to ask what I was doing.

"Bruce, please…"

Finally, he sighed. "Alfred, I don't know what to do." He made it sound as if it were a confession rather than relieving a burdening thought.

"About what, sir?"

"… Everything."

"Sir?"

There was a long silence as he sipped from the glass. Then he spoke, "Everything is different, Alfred…"

"A lot has changed recently, sir, but not everything is different."

He stood suddenly. I half expected him to take an awkward step but was surprised to see that he walked off fine, "But it is Alfred. I've been thinking about it and I can't think of a single damned thing that's the same as it was when I started… The city has fallen to its lowest levels time and time again, with Bane and the Clench and then No Man's Land… Gordon… Jim stepped down…" he faced the windows, the glass clasped in his hand, "Dick's come into my life, left and has come back..."

I watched as the water in the glass shivered. His voice came in a whisper, "And Jason…"

I stood and approached him, keeping a mere yard between us, "Sir, you know that what happened---."

"Wasn't my fault. You've been telling me that for years," he turned to look at me, "But I just can't believe it. If I hadn't taken him under my wing, if I had trained him better, set more rules for him, he would still be alive."

"Sir, you can't blame---."

I was interrupted as he threw the glass at the wall. It shattered on impact, spraying shards of glass and droplets of water everywhere. The death of Jason Todd had always been a sensitive subject in this house. One, which was rarely spoken of. Even thinking about it brought out terrible memories of Master Bruce silent and brooding and of an empty bedroom that would never be occupied ever again…

He looked back towards the window, "I can blame myself, Alfred. I do…"

Although the room fell silent, I could still hear the glass shattering, echoing in my mind. I had known something was bothering him but I had no idea he had gone as far as to recollect each and every travesty that he had faced over the last two decades. For any normal human being it would be enough drive a person mad with depression. For Master Bruce, it simply brought out insomnia and self-hatred.

"What else, then," I asked, "What else do you blame yourself for? Ms. Barbara's paralysis? The death of Mrs. Essen-Gordon? Miss Cassandra's dreadful upbringing?"

He turned to look at me once more, no doubt shocked by my boldness. But he couldn't have been more shocked than I had been at my words. I watched as he blinked and bowed his head slightly. I had known that many of the burdens he bore he wished to do so alone and would freely take the pain of guilt. A fault of his that he had since he was a child.

I could still remember him, standing quietly in his room following his parents' funeral, losing a battle against his tears. I had walked in to tell him that I would prepare him supper if he desired only to be met with his silence.

"Very well then," I had muttered, turning to leave instead of comforting him. In those early days, I had been unsure as to how to comfort the child. I had learned quickly, for his sake.

It was then he had cried, "Alfred, it's all my fault…" he had managed through the sniffles, "I made them leave the theatre, if I hadn't gotten scared, they'd still be alive…"

I had gone to console him, offering comforting words that said the killer was to blame, not him. Then, I embraced him, letting him sob into my jacket as he whispered that he missed them. Even after all of the years that had passed, he still relayed the blame to himself. For his parents… For everything.

"Bruce, although you see to it that you have, in some way, managed to bring about these things you speak of, I must remind you that everything happens for a reason. Your city fell victim to unspeakable evils time and time again, this is true, but it happened not because of you, but perhaps to test you. James Gordon left his post as commissioner as a result of his own decision to step down in order to let a new individual take on the task of fighting crime in this city. And young Richard…" I paused to smirk, "Lord knows the trials you and he have endured over the years, but you must remember that the relationship between a father and a son is a precious one. The loyalty you hold for your father is the same type of admiration that Master Dick holds for you, albeit he doesn't always show it."

He had no reply.

"Now, sir, if you are quite through with your brooding, I must fetch the broom and dust pan." I had put one foot through the door when I heard his footsteps from behind me. I paused in order to watch him pass me and walk towards the stairs.

Just as he reached the bottom of the staircase, he stopped and turned, "Thank you, Alfred."

"You are very welcome, sir."

V

"All right, one lemonade, one Cherry Coke and one Aquafina," the vendor smiled a little too brightly, "That will be seven-eighteen."

I watched as Tim reached into his pocket and covered the bill. I took the chance to give Mattie her lemonade before grabbing my soda and Tim's water. Even though we had only been at the Bristol Park for an hour, the eighty-degree weather called for some hydration.

I had volunteered to baby-sit Mattie for the afternoon after her soccer practice as Selina was up at the Preserve and Bruce would be working late. Again. It was the fifth time I had to sit for them in the last week and a half, of which was certainly odd. Not that I minded, it was just… odd.

After Tim paid, we walked over towards the playground area where a few trees offered shady cover on the benches. By the time we walked over, Mattie had most of her drink gone and asked, "Cassie, can I go on the swings?"

"Sure, I'll hold your lemonade."

We sat on the nearest bench and watched as she skipped over to the empty swings. She picked a middle one, hopped on and began pumping her legs. I took a sip of my soda, but the cap back on and then set it on the seat next to Mattie's drink. Tim was taking long, slow guzzles of his water while watching Mattie and other children play in the carefree manner only a child could muster.

After redoing my ponytail, I leaned back against the bench and watched as well. Three minutes of silence, aside from kids giggling and birds chirping. Just as I glanced at my watch to see that it was ten after five, Tim asked, "Do you think that there's something wrong with him?"

"Hmm," I said softly, needing no clarification as to whom he was referring to.

"I've been thinking about it, how he's been out on patrols so late, recently… And how he works alone, staying away from us all night…" he pointed to Mattie, "And now he's staying at work during the day later…. It's like he's trying to avoid everyone."

I had made similar observations but had kept them to myself. Months earlier, when Bruce had asked me to train harder with Tim; I had made a few assumptions and had also kept them to myself. Not only had our sparring upped, but Tim's weight training as well. A year ago, he had been well muscled, but still somewhat lean. As I looked at him in his short-sleeved tee, he could have easily passed as an amateur body builder…

"And even before… the way he's been giving us more cases to work, more things to do on our own... I've done more solo work in the last year than I have since I started being Robin."

I shrugged, "Maybe he wants you to have more experience."

"Maybe," he rubbed his forehead, "But I think there's something more to it, Cass, I really do." His gaze flashed to me before returning to Mattie, "Do you think he's sick?"

"I don't know, he seems fine. Tired sometimes but if he's working harder…"

Tim sighed, "Something's not right."

"Did you ask him?"

He shook his head, "No, not yet. I don't how to. If I'm wrong and everything is all right then I'll look like an ass."

"But if something is wrong, isn't it better to know about it?"

He looked down at his hands, "I suppose. But what if he is sick, Cass? What if it's been something that's been going on for a while, that he's kept hidden and now it's getting worse and he's afraid he can't hide it any longer?"

"And that's why he's avoiding everyone," I added.

"Exactly," he looked at me, eyes an electric blue, "What if he's…"

"If he was dying he would tell us."

He shook his head and looked over at Mattie, "You don't know that. He may not be the same as he was when I first met him, but I know he would try and protect us from something like that. When he was paralyzed by Bane, he had us all believing it was nothing, that with rest he would be back in no time. The truth was the slightest torque on his back or fraction of pressure on his system at the very least he could have been permanently paralyzed… And the worst, he could have died."

I set my hand on his, not knowing what else to do or say.

Tim took my hand into his and looked back towards me, "I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to be shielded from the truth; I want to know what's going on."

"Then talk to him," I resolved.

He went to open his mouth when his cell phone chirped from his pants pocket. He let go of me and answered, "Hey… Hey, what's up?…. No we're fine… At the park in Bristol… Yeah, for a little while then we're dropping the munchkin off at the Manor… Sounds good to me, hold on," he spoke to me, "Dick wants to know if we want to get some dinner with him and Barbara tonight."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "Consider it payment for helping me move in."

"Ha, sounds good."

He told Dick that we would join them and to make reservations. After he hung up, we walked over and joined Mattie on the swings. She had been humming to herself as we walked closer towards her and stopped when she spotted us. "Are we leaving?"

"Nope, figured we swing with you for a while," Tim smiled and sat in the right hand seat.

I took the one on the left side of Mattie and slowly began building up speed and height. Mattie laughed as Tim struggled with the low swing, clipping his feet on the stone covered ground each time he hit the bottom of the arc.

After the swings, we toured the wooden playground, climbed the rope wall, slid down the slides and crossed the monkey bars. A little after six-thirty, Mattie looked whipped. We returned to Tim's car and drove over the hill to Wayne Manor. Using the service entrance, we walked into the house and were greeted with the sweet scent of sirloin. Alfred was at the counter, peeling red potatoes and didn't seem surprised to see us file into the kitchen.

"Is Mom home, Alfred?"

He nodded, "That she is, young miss, upstairs in her room, I believe."

The girl grinned and bounded out the door and into the hallway. A second later she returned and ran at me, hugging me around the waist, "Bye, Cassie!"

"Bye, Mattie."

She then took me into her tiny arms, "Are you going to come see Rusty this weekend?"

"Yep, can't wait to meet him, he sounds awful cute."

Once Mattie left to search for her mother, Tim asked Alfred if Bruce had returned yet. A slight frown passed over his lips before he said, "No, I'm afraid not."

Tim shrugged, "Ah. I'll catch him tonight, then. See you later, Al."

"Good night, Master Tim, Miss Cassandra."

The ride back into town was silent and one that reminded me of one too many rides in the Batmobile. In the forty-minute ride, I fought with myself as to whether or not to tell Tim about the favor Bruce had asked of me. When he pulled up in front of the Clocktower, I still hadn't decided one way or the other. As he stepped out and opened my door for me, I sighed and decided after dinner, I would tell him.

Maybe.

V

As I twirled my spoon in orange sorbet, I took an oath to kill Bruce Wayne the second he stepped through the door.

This was the third dinner he had missed in the last week. In Mattie's six years of life, he had made all possible efforts to be with her for breakfast and dinner so that he would be able to begin and end his day with her. Perhaps it was to give an illusion of a normalcy he wouldn't allow himself. But for him to brush of three dinners out of seven…

Mattie and I were sitting in the den eating our dessert while putting together a dolphin puzzle she had won at the first grade spelling bee back in June. With Bruce's increasing absence at home, I'd been doing my best to keep Mattie occupied with games, painting and puzzles. Anything to keep her mind off of the fact that Bruce wasn't there to be with her.

"One more piece, Mom…. He he, it's his nose."

I watched as she plugged in the last piece, completing the smiling, coral reef exploring dolphin, "Perfect. You want some more ice cream?"

She looked at her empty bowl that sat on the floor beside her, "No… I'm full."

"Well, let's leave this here, I'll get some pictures of it before we take it apart to put it away."

She stood and looked down at the puzzle, "Can we leave it until Dad comes home?"

I nodded and stood as well, "Sure thing, I know he'd love to see it. I'm going to take our bowls into the kitchen. Why don't you go upstairs and pick out some pajamas, then after your bath we can have a slumber party down here until Dad gets home. Watch a movie and have popcorn…"

"Yeah!" she jumped up with her hands in the air before skipping out the door, laughing quietly to herself. At least one of us was in good spirits.

When I made it to her room, she had a matching pajama set laid out on her bed, a light purple pair of shorts and a matching shirt with smiling moon embroidered on it, surrounded by gold stars. I found her in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. She smiled, her mouth foamed, when I walked into the room. As she spat and rinsed, I set the tub to fill and poured in bubble bath.

"All clean," Mattie grinned, revealing her tiny white teeth.

"Now let's get the rest of you cleaned up."

I gave her the washcloth while I picked up the shampoo bottle, of which was empty. Last night when I had given her a bath, it had been empty but I had forgotten to toss it out. "I'll be right back, I'm going to get some shampoo from my bathroom."

"Kay," she replied as she piled suds on the washcloth.

Instead of searching the cabinets in the bathroom, I took a bottle from our shower. On my way back to her bathroom, I paused in the hallway, eyes fixed at the silhouette at the end of the hall. After Mattie was in bed, I told myself, I could wait that long to kill him.

Instead of talking to Bruce, I returned to Mattie and sat back on the edge of the tub. "Do you want to do your hair, Mattie?"

She nodded, "Sure," and held out her cupped hand. I squeezed out a dollop and told her to wait while I wet her hair a bit more.

As I poured a cup of water over the back of her head there was a soft rap on the doorframe just before Bruce's form filled the doorway. Mattie looked over at him and smiled, "Daddy!"

"Hi, kitten. How was soccer?"

"Awesome. We have a game this weekend. Playing the Chargers…"

I interrupted, "There you go, lather it up, kid."

"Is this your shampoo, it smells pretty." I nodded and she giggled before mixing it into her hair. Once she was satisfied, she titled her head back, "Rinse, please," her eyes scrunched shut and her grin as wide as possible. After all of the shampoo was out, Mattie rinsed off one more time before she stood and stepped out of the tub. I wrapped a towel around her and took another off the rack to dry her hair.

Bruce stood motionless, watching.

Once dry, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders and trotted over to her father. He scooped her up and kissed her cheek. Before she could wrap her arms around his neck, he set her down and told her to get dressed. She nodded and left for her bedroom.

Leaving us alone.

Instead of facing him, I chose to ignore him while emptying and rinsing the tub. When I stood to leave, he was still blocking the doorway. "Excuse me," I said without looking at him.

He paused, and then stepped aside.

Once in the safety of our room, I returned the shampoo to the shower and tried to find something to occupy myself with. Anything. Unfortunately, Alfred had cleaned our room already and I would have to make a mess in order to pick it up.

Bruce entered the room and walked over to where I was standing beside the bay windows. If he had reached out to touch me, I didn't know if I could control my urge to slay him. Instead, he kept a foot between us and said, "Selina, I'm sorry."

"You are apologizing to the wrong person."

He paused then, "I know. I---."

"I don't think you know, Bruce. Because when you're not here, you don't have to see the look on her face. You don't have to watch her staring at your seat at the dinner table or out the windows, hoping to see headlights coming up the drive." I walked away from him and sat on the sofa.

He took a breath and then followed suit, still keeping the distance between us. He kept his gaze directed at me, but I refused to meet his eyes. I expected him to apologize again, but he never did. After a moment of silence, I looked over at him. The lights in the front of our room were on, casting a shadow over his face. The only thing I could see were his eyes, practically glowing in the darkness.

"Where were you?" I asked softly. When he didn't answer, I asked again, louder.

"I heard you," he said.

"That's good. Now in the normal standards of conversation, it's your turn to respond, preferably to the question asked."

"I know…"

When he didn't, I sighed, "Bruce, it's not that difficult of a question."

He leaned back into the sofa, "I've been busy."

"Busy, Bruce? Doing what?"

He shook his head, "Does it matter?" he asked as he turned to face me. As light spilled over half of his face, I recognized how tense his features had become.

I stood, "Apparently not… Why would it matter, Bruce, after all, whatever it is you were doing needed more attention than Mattie did tonight."

"Selina, please, you think I don't care if I'm not here?" he said, still sitting on the sofa.

I turned back quickly to face him, "Bruce, if you care so much, then make the effort to be here." I watched as he opened his mouth to reply but then shut it. I took the chance to continue, "What is going on with you? For the last month, you've been here less and less---."

He stood and interrupted me, "I know, Selina and---."

"You know? Then why aren't you doing something about it?"

"I'm trying, Selina," he closed the space between us.

"Then try harder, Bruce, damnit, we're talking about your daughter, about us," I snapped, louder than I had intended, "I can't make you be here, you should want to be here with us."

"I do want to be here, but I can't, not right now, I have things to take care of."

"What things?"

He locked eyes with me but didn't offer an answer.

"Exactly, Bruce. The same nameless things you've been taking care of for years. The same nameless things that have come before anything else, no matter what."

"That's not true and you know it," he growled.

"Oh really? When we first dated, all those years ago, why did we break up? Why did I leave you, this city, behind? Because I had never come first in anything. I was never important enough, not as Selina Kyle and not as Catwoman!"

"This isn't the same as that," he spoke loudly, "This has nothing to do with what happened then, it only has to do with what's happening now."

"Bruce, I don't know what's going on because you won't tell me!" I crossed my arms over my chest. We rarely fought over anything, and even still, we hadn't done so in months and that had been because he was upset about Jim retiring. Whatever was bothering him was something far more troubling.

He glared at me as he opened his mouth to no doubt bark back whatever he thought was a plausible excuse for skirting around whatever was bothering him. But before he could utter a word, his eyes shifted to doorway as did mine.

Mattie stood just inside the door, hugging her stuffed pony and crying silently. When Bruce began to walk towards her she turned and ran down the hall, no doubt seeking refuge in her bedroom. As he paused in mid-stride, and looked over at me, hurt clearly displayed in the look on his face. He continued on towards the door and as he reached it, I called out, "Wait for me."

Surprisingly, he did stop to wait for me.

Maybe I wouldn't kill him.

Maybe I would just scratch his eyes out.

V

I heard a soft knock on the door and then Mom's voice, "Mattie, can we come in?"

I was lying on my bed, hugging my stuffed pony, and trying to stop crying. I picked a tissue out of the box on my nightstand and wiped my face and nose before saying, "Okay." When the door opened, Mom walked in first and then Dad, both of them looked sad and tired.

I had been getting dressed as quickly as possible so that I could be with them in their room when I had heard them arguing. At first, when I heard them yelling I didn't think much of it. Maybe one of them had been in the bathroom and they needed to talk louder. But when I heard how angry they sounded… I knew something was wrong.

Quietly, I had walked down to their bedroom, the voices getting louder with each step. Their door was opened half way and when I looked in, I saw that Mom and Dad were standing on the other side of the bed. Dad looked like he was going to say something but when he saw me; he stopped and looked at me. So did Mom. I hadn't realized that I had been crying until I felt a tear fall from my face and land on my bare foot. The second Dad had started towards me, I turned and ran as fast as I could to my room.

Once inside, I shut the door and crawled to the middle of my bed, still hugging my pony as tight as I could.

As they passed through my door, Dad reached over and turned the overhead light on. I closed my eyes as I pressed my face into my pillow. I listened as their footsteps came closer and then felt as Mom sat on the bed next to me. A moment later, I felt Dad sit as well, although on the other side of me.

It wasn't long after that I felt my mother's hand rubbing my back, "Mattie, we're sorry…"

I kept my eyes closed.

"Sweetheart, please, can we talk?" she asked, still rubbing my back.

I shook my head against my pillow. They whispered to one another before Dad lay on my bed, wrapping an arm around my middle, "Kitten, please…"

This time I shrugged a bit before mumbling, "Okay…"

Mom lay down beside me as well, still keeping her hand on my back. With both them lying with me, I rolled onto my back, looking back and forth between their faces. When I looked back to Mom I asked her why she had been shouting.

She took a while to answer, "Dad and I didn't mean to shout, we had an argument and didn't realize how loud we were."

I kept looking at her, "Arguing about what?" I asked after a sniffle.

Dad cleared his throat and I looked over at him, "About me not being here for dinner… and for working too much lately."

"That was a silly thing to fight over," I said.

"It was," he replied as he leaned over to kiss my cheek.

With each of them having a hand across me, I reached up and put their hands together. I watched as they squeezed each other's fingers gently and looked at one another. After a bit, I asked, "Mom, can we still have our slumber party?"

"Of course we can," she said the start of a smile on her lips.

"Do want to come, Dad? We're going to watch a movie in our pajamas."

Mom and I looked over at him at the same time. He looked passed me at Mom for a second before looking down at me, "Of course I do."

I leaned up and kissed him and then turned and kissed Mom. I slipped out from under their arms and rolled off of the bed. Once standing, I said, "Now you have to kiss and make up."

"Oh really?" Mom asked as she looked over at me.

I nodded, "I saw it in a movie." They were both looking at me now. I put my hands on my hips and said, "Well?"

"I think we better do it, Bruce, or she won't let us have a slumber party."

They looked at one another for a long time. Mom was smiling but Dad looked confused. Eventually, he offered a smirk and leaned forwards to kiss her.

It didn't take long for both of them to change into pajamas. Dad, Mom and I went downstairs together. They went to make popcorn and I picked out a movie in the entertainment den. After I took "The Incredible Journey" off the shelf of DVDs, I set it next the TV and went to the kitchen. Mom was pouring a bag of popcorn into a large glass bowl and Dad was on the phone, "No… Something came up… Just tell them… Thank you. Bye."

After he hung up, I walked up behind him and asked, "Who was that?"

He turned, "Oh, Aunt Barbara."

"Ah, I wanted to talk to her, too," I pouted.

"Next time, kitten," he said. "What's the movie?"

"It's a surprise."

Once in the den, we all sat on the big leather couch. Mom and Dad sat together and then I sat beside Dad, covered up in a blanket I kept downstairs. I took a few handfuls of popcorn but after that I wasn't hungry any more.

Despite the fact that not even an hour earlier they were mad at each other, it seemed that they were back to normal. When I looked, Dad had his arm around her back and she had her head settled against his shoulder. They whispered to each other a few times during the movie but other than that they were silent.

As the movie went on, I started yawning. I leaned against Dad and smiled when he let me use his lap as a pillow. Just when the porcupine stung Chance, I decided it was a safe time to rest my eyes, for just a little while. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in my bed, tucked in for the night. I sat up and looked at my clock: 12:05 a.m. I picked up my pony and my blanket and got out of bed, my eyes half closed.

I walked down the dark hall and peeked into their bedroom before entering. Both were in bed sleeping soundly. After climbing onto the bed, I crawled in between them and settled down. Dad mumbled something but when I looked his eyes were closed.

At least the next time they fought, I knew what to do to fix it.

Slumber parties had a way of making everyone happy.

V

When Batman didn't want to be found, Batman didn't want to be found.

Since talking to Cass a few days earlier, I had made it my goal in life to find him so I could talk to him. To try and figure what was going on, if anything. The other night, he had gone as far as not even going out on patrols, which after he had been out since well past four in the morning nearly every night seemed way out of place.

At a little after two, I took a break from my own patrols and my search for Batman. I was actually two blocks from my apartment and was half tempted to go get a drink of water. As most of the summer had been, August had started out hot and showed no signs of relief any time soon.

Just as I prepared a line to move on, I heard a soft sound from behind me.

I smirked and waited for him.

Nightwing's arm went to wrap around my throat but I ducked to the left and about faced, landing a soft jab to his stomach. A look of surprise came over his face and was quickly replaced by a playful smile. He asked, "Jumpy much?"

"Nah, bored," I replied.

"Oh, not enough rotten scum for the big bad bird to beat up?"

I put a hand on his shoulder, "Here's a hint. Always avoid alliteration."

He let out a laugh and slapped the back of my head, "I'll remember that."

I put my line away and said, "I take it Leslie cleared you?"

He nodded and balanced all of his weight on the foot he had injured, "All better. I still have a bit of a bruise on my butt. Bottom. Backside," he smiled as I glared at him, "Right, the alliteration. My ass."

"Better," I commented, "Speaking of B's, have you seen Batman at all?"

He shook his head, "No. I've been down south. Irving Grove, Gotham Village, hit up a nice mugging in Evanstown and on my way up here I made a few stops in Little Stockton because that's always a happening place."

I nodded in agreement and looked out at the city skyline.

After a minute of listening to the traffic below, he said, "Well, I better scoot, so many criminal acts, so little time… If I see him do you want me to tell him you're looking for him?"

"Doesn't matter. I tried to get Oracle to find him but he's had his homing signal off for the last two weeks."

"Hm, that's odd," he whispered. Before he turned to leave, he made a swift move to kick me with his healing foot. I snatched it and put pressure on the ankle. "Hey, no fair." I let his leg go and watched as he leapt off of the building before shooting a line. Crazy circus folk…

Instead of getting water, I made my own leap of faith and moved west into Charon. I had always joked that Charon was always a good district to end patrols in because it was home to Mercy Hospital as well as the Gotham Memorial and Rose Lawn Cemeteries. If things didn't go your way, you were equidistant to an ER or a grave. Only Dick thought it had been funny.

Despite the morbid monuments, the area was actually pretty. Lots of big oaks lining the streets and barricading the cemeteries, very few large architectural nightmares that were popular in the other districts. And on top of that, the crime levels changed as well. The most common was loitering at the graves and sometimes, grave robbing. That was never a pleasant one to deal with but it sure beat playing fire fighter.

But after forty minutes of touring the area, there was nothing to do.

So much for a busy night.

"Oracle?"

She took a moment to reply, "Looking for something to do?"

"You read my mind."

"Ha. Too bad my psychic prowess is a waste. I've got nothing on my boards for you."

"Seriously? What is happening to Gotham these days…." I kidded.

"Tell me about it. Makes staring at computer screens all night a real drag."

I smirked as I made my way home, "You're playing Pong, aren't you?"

She paused, "Perhaps."

A few blocks from my place, I asked, "Any word from him?"

"Sorry, not a single grunt nor monosyllable word."

After wishing her a good night and good luck beating the computer, I returned to Bryanttown a little before three, officially declaring it a night. As I changed into shorts and a shirt in the dark silence of my apartment, I tried to get my mind to shift away from my troubled thoughts concerning Bruce. Maybe in the morning I would drive up to Bristol, visit with Dad and Dana and then go over and pay him a personal visit. At least to see him, even if I didn't get a chance to talk to him. Maybe even kill a few punch bags in the Cave.

Still thirsty, I went into the kitchen and finished off a bottle of milk. After wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I set the bottle on the counter and crossed the living room towards my room. With Cass's help, I had unpacked and settled in within a week of moving. Barbara had given me a few framed posters of my favorite movies to hang up as a house-warming gift. Dick had brought over deep-dish pizza and beer. Bruce and Selina had yet to see the place but I kept getting promises that they would drop by sometime.

I yawned as I walked into my room. Even with the lights off, I managed my way to the bed without tripping over any random shoes or dirty clothes. Tomorrow afternoon I planned on cleaning the whole place, as I was having Cass over for dinner.

I was surprised at how easy I had settled into our relationship. Whether it was the stress from the last year or the fact that we had actually matured a bit, being together was much easier than I could have hoped for. We joked about it quite often, how it had taken Bruce and Selina over a decade to figure life out and Dick and Barbara nearly as long. And we had just come together at the right time without any hassle. Our camping trip had been amazing. The little she had been with my friends from school, she still got along with them great for the whole week that we roughed it at the state park.

She admitted to have never officially been camping, at least not in the sense of weenie roasts and story telling. More so meditating all night in the dark woods as a child. So in honor of it being her first time, we all did our part in making sure she had as much fun as possible. My friend Josh taught her to play a tune on his guitar and the girls conned her into helping in their scheme of dumping all of the guys' clothes over the camp area.

On our way back home to the city, Cass had thanked me for the "break from reality." And she said that next time, we should go camping alone.

No matter what happened between us, I knew I would never take Cass for granted.

And as I settled into bed, I laughed as I thought to myself, And if I ever did, she would kill me.

V

The clock on the far wall showed the time to be ten after four in the morning.

I should be on my way to Bristol.

Instead I was sitting at Barbara's kitchen table.

I had waited outside the Clocktower until a little before four, watching as Barbara shut down the computers. Within ten minutes, the lights were out and she was in her bedroom. I gave her another five minutes before sneaking in through the living room window. After moving silently through the flat, I sought refuge in the room furthest from her bedroom and the one I knew Dick would visit before going to bed himself: the kitchen.

As I sat at the table, cowl pulled back, I recalled countless evenings that I had watched him engulf turkey sandwiches after patrols. No matter how late, he could always take on any snack or meal that Alfred offered before heading upstairs to bed. I smiled, remembering how I would always wait a while, then go up and check on him.

Just as I checked in on Mattie every single night…

I heard a soft click sound from down the hall and then the padding of footsteps on carpet. He yawned loudly, cutting through the silent apartment with ease. As his footfalls landed on the tiled floor, I watched from the back of the room as he maneuvered in the dark to the refrigerator. He selected a carton of milk from the shelf, popped it open and put it to his lips.

I asked quietly, "Doesn't Barbara want you to use a glass?"

He spat milk, coughed and looked in my direction, "Holy… Bruce, is this your new crime fighting strategy? Wait in darkened rooms and give criminals heart attacks?"

"Figured this would be a good time to talk."

I watched as he pulled his mask off and stared at the clock on the wall, "Bruce, it's four in the morning. The only thing that's good at this time is Denny's breakfast." He smirked and ran a gloved hand through his hair, "Well, I thought it was funny, that's what matters."

… So, is it me or are the crooks getting lamer as we go?…

I looked away from him and he asked, "You all right?" He walked towards me and sat in the chair to my left.

I offered my usual response to that particular question: silence.

He tried to shrug it off, "I'll take that as a 'no comment' then," but the look on his face showed genuine concern.

The fight with Selina had put things in somewhat perspective for me. For almost a month, I had been avoiding my family, all of them. There was no true reason other than that I wanted time to think things through. Things that I had to take care of. The very things that had caused the fight with the woman I loved. Having three separate lives as a businessman, a family man and as Batman allowed me the chance to work harder in two in order the steer clear of the remaining one. Selina had been right; I had nearly mastered balancing all three for so long and suddenly I had let perhaps the most important one fall behind.

Because one of my other lives was coming to an end and I didn't want it to…

"Bruce?"

When he said my name, I realized that I had been staring at him, my thoughts taking control of my attention. I blinked and looked away briefly. In the last week, I had come to the Clocktower each and every night. I had watched Barbara close up for the night; I had entered her home and waited. But each and every time that I had heard Dick arrive, I would slip out the back, undetected.

That night, I held my ground.

"Dick…" I started, still unsure as to how I would finish, "I want you to know, that you returning to Gotham means a great deal to me. Especially now."

He smirked, "Thanks."

I had to fight to keep my eyes trained on him, "I know you've been through a lot, with the shoot out and even the Wallach case… But I understand what you've gone through. I've had my fair share of stressful situations and unsolvable cases that still haunt me… Something as tragic as a child's death… And no evidence to find justice… No matter what, there's nothing you can do…"

He sat back in his chair, eyes trained on me.

I looked down at my hands as they rested on the table.

When I looked back at him, I stared into his eyes, "But up until now, I didn't know what it was like for you… and for Jim to step down… To give up the role you had fought so hard to create…"

Dick's breathing hitched and all he could manage was a whisper, "Bruce, what do you mean up until now, what are trying tell me?"

My chest was tightening with every breath I took. If the act of telling him wasn't hard enough, the look on his face…

The look in his eyes…

I stood and faced the doorway, doing my best to keep it together, "When I became Batman, I promised myself that I would work until I could physically no longer. Whether it be health or age or… even death. I knew I couldn't do it forever. I knew there would be a point when the risk would be too much, but I never knew when." I listened as he rose and approached me. When he didn't speak, I continued, "Until now."

"Oh my God," he whispered. I turned back to face him, shocked to see his blue eyes glassy and his mouth gaped open. "Bruce, no…"

Somehow, I managed to keep looking at him, "I wanted you to be the first to know… About me stepping down. Of my plans---."

"Plans? Wh-what, how long have you known… that you were going to do this?"

A week. A year. My whole life. I had no answer for him. I had to…

"Bruce," he drew a sharp breath, eyes still locked onto me, "What's wrong, I mean, there has to be a reason for you to give up."

I sighed, "I'm not giving up, Dick. I'm stepping down before my body does. My knees and shoulders are shot already, and lord knows I'm not as strong as I used to be. Leslie's been harping on my for knee replacements for two years now… If I don't step down now, it wouldn't be more than a year or so before I would absolutely have to. Twenty years, Dick… Thousands of endless nights… Endless battles… I've practically spent my entire life fighting against the odds…"

He whispered, "The war on crime."

"The war of life," I spoke softly.

Silence fell between us as everything settled. I glanced at the clock, shocked to see that it had only been six minutes since Dick had walked into the kitchen. It seemed like a lifetime ago…

I watched him as he stood, somewhat unsteadily on his feet. I had been to Leslie three days earlier for a corticosteroid injection in my left knee's joint capsule and she had told me that he had healed brilliantly. My mind had flashed back to when he had first woken after Two-Face had nearly beaten him to death, so many years ago.

… Occupational hazard, right? Just give me a couple of weeks… and I'll be back out there with you…

His voice interrupted my thoughts, determined but still shaky, "Gotham needs Batman, Gotham needs you."

"I know. But Gotham will have a Batman…" I paused and looked as a hint of confusion flashed in his eyes, "When I was shot… when I lost my memory, you stepped in to take the mantle and did a tremendous job. But that's what it was, a job. I know that you don't see Nightwing as your primary lifestyle as I do with Batman. That's what makes you a better person, Dick, because you didn't let the night take over your life like I did." I took a breath, "Because of this, I am asking Timothy to take the mantle."

He didn't seem as surprised as I thought he would have. I took that as a good sign.

"I've had Cassandra training with him for nearly six months. Increasing his strength as well as his skill. He proved himself more than I would have hoped for in taking down Black Mask. I know he's ready."

"Has he accepted?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I haven't told him yet. I wanted to make sure… that…"

He smirked, "You wanted to make sure I was okay with it. My permission. Kind of like those dances I wanted to go to in middle school."

I let the corner of my mouth rise slightly.

He set his hand on my shoulder, "Bruce… I don't know what to say," he smiled at me, eyes still glassy and then said, "Ah, hell… Even if you didn't let me go dance with girls back in eighth grade… I still love you." Before I could comment, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

When he withdrew, he looked away and swiped his face with the back of his hand, "Now go home and tuck my little sister in, will you?"

V

sniff Only two chapters left…


	21. One And Only: XXI

Title: One And Only: XXI

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the Series of Three storyline. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: I want to thank everyone who's read and reviewed this story and those that have preceded it. Since I have absolutely fallen in love with the characters and all the background I've created, I have decided to continue the series to follow the Family in what lies ahead… And because Mattie as a teenager and Bruce having to worry about boyfriends is way too much fun to resist. This is the last official chapter, but there will be an epilogue up next. Enjoy, 3 DC

A/N 3: References made to general continuity and to information provided in Scott Beatty's "Batman: The Ultimate Guide to the Dark Knight". Cass's proof to Tim that he's cut out for the job is based on a scene from Batman Begins. And for all my OADD girls…. Oooo Gerard ;)

A/N 4: I hope everyone enjoys the Dark Knight's summer triumph in theatres as much as I will. Even if Rachel is the love interest instead of Selina, we all know who he really loves… ;)

And a big thanks Chris for inspiring me and ultimately motivating me ;)

V

He forgot to close the black out drapes.

Early morning sun had made its way across the floor and onto the bed, warming my eyelids and daring me to open them. When I did, I squinted and looked at the bedside clock and sighed to see it was only seven-thirty. I had no reason to be awake before ten and there I was, wide-awake before eight in the morning. At least Bruce was still sleeping, for the most part.

Smiling, I reached under the blankets in search for his hand. He was lying on his side, facing away from me for a change, the blankets pushed down to his waist. I had no recollection of him coming home or for that matter, any idea as to when I had fallen asleep. As I found his left hand, I wove my fingers with his and squeezed gently.

Although it took a little while, he squeezed back.

I shifted and laid face down, smiling into my pillow and thinking it must have been a rough night. I guesstimated that he hadn't come to bed before five. Poor baby, I mused to myself. Moving beneath the covers, I inched closer to him and wrapped my arm around his middle while I rested my chin on his shoulder.

I kissed his cheek and interrupted his slumber once more, "Bruce?"

"Mmm…" he grumbled.

"Are you awake?"

He took a moment to form a reply, "No."

"Bruce?"

He didn't respond.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm pregnant with Gerard Butler's love child and we're running away together to Scotland to live happily ever after."

He turned his head back to look at me and I watched as his left eye opened slightly, revealing a bright blue iris, "What?"

"Nothing," I kissed his check again and snuggled closer to him. Ten minutes later, I began to trace the muscles of his chest and abdomen, "I think we should have breakfast in bed."

"Kay…" he murmured.

This was too much fun, I thought. Poor guy was running on probably nothing more than two hours of sleep and would wish for nothing more than to sleep another two or four or even six hours of sleep. And the least I could do was let him obtain said sleep. And instead, I was picking on him. When it seemed as if he had drifted off again, I promptly plucked a chest hair. He jerked suddenly and grabbed my hand.

"Good morning, Bruce," I said.

"Good morning, Selina," he replied quietly, "What time is it?" When I told him he swore.

"Now now, it's a beautiful morning, what could be bad about that?"

"That it's morning and I'm awake." I kissed his cheek again and he kept his eyes closed. After a moment, he asked, "What were your plans for the day?"

"Not much. Breakfast, a run, lunch, maybe some yoga, dinner, painting with Mattie and then maybe some private time with this guy I know," when I paused he snickered to himself. I added, "Makes a mean cup of mocha cappuccino."

"Ah, Alfred," he commented.

"Oh, did you think I meant you? Oh, no, sweetheart, I don't think I can fit you into my schedule today. Sorry, maybe tomorrow."

He sighed, "I understand."

"I thought you would," I whispered while patting his chest softly.

Before I could pick at him any further, I heard the door creak open slowly. Bruce must have heard it as well, as his breathing hitched. Although I could only see the side of his face, I was still able to spot half of a smile.

"Mornin' Dad."

Mattie, still in her nightgown, crawled into bed and snuck under the covers next to her father. He kissed her as she set her head on the pillow beside his, "What are you doing up, Mattie?"

She shrugged and settled back against the pillow, "I don't know, I just am."

"Well put," I commented. The next time I spoke wasn't until thirty minutes later, after I looked over Bruce and had made sure my daughter had fallen asleep. "So when did you get in, I don't even remember you coming home?"

I was surprised when he responded right away, "Late. Had to take care of a few things after patrols."

"Care to elaborate?"

He smirked briefly before saying, "No."

… I do want to be here, but I can't, not right now, I have things to take care of…

… What things?… Exactly, Bruce. The same nameless things you've been taking care of for years. The same nameless things that have come before anything else, no matter what…

At quarter of nine, I rose, as did Mattie, leaving Bruce to be woken by Alfred when he would come up fifteen minutes later. We brushed our teeth in the bathroom together before she left to pick out her clothes and get dressed for the day. I did the same, and emerged from the bathroom dressed in lycra shorts and a black elastic tank top.

Bruce had three minutes before the wrath of Alfred.

"Bruce, you getting up?"

He had rolled onto his stomach in my absence, taking up a majority of the bed and all of the covers and pillows. He showed no sign of hearing me but I wasn't about to bother trying to wake him. Poor thing…

After donning running shoes and meeting up with Mattie at the end of the hall, I spotted Alfred coming up the stairs. I beat him to the greeting, "Good morning Alfred."

"Ah, good morning Ms. Selina, Miss Mattie. I take it Master Bruce has yet to rise?"

"Yes," I waited until Mattie was halfway down the stairs before asking, "Alfred, do you know what time he came home last night?"

"Actually, madam, he came upstairs shortly after I woke. Half past five."

I nodded, "He mentioned this morning that he had some things to take care of after patrols… Oh well…" I began down the steps, "Oh, and Alfred… I'll wake him when I get back later."

He about faced on the step and joined me in descending them, "Very well, Ms. Selina. Can interest you in breakfast?"

From the bottom of the stairs we heard Mattie, "I'm interested!"

I whispered, "She is spending too much time with the Gluttons."

Alfred smirked and replied, "Very true, I'm afraid."

Mattie and I were halfway done with our bagels and orange slices when Bruce appeared in the breakfast nook doorway, sporting running shoes and shorts. He sat beside me and took an orange wedge off of my plate and ate it.

"Dad, you're supposed to ask," Mattie corrected him.

He chewed quickly, swallowed and then spoke, "You are absolutely right, kitten. Selina, may I have an orange slice?"

I smiled, "Yes you may."

As we finished eating, Bruce ate two more slices of orange. When I offered to get him a bagel and coffee he shook his head and said he would eat after we ran. I replied, "You're joining me?"

"If you'll have me."

I leaned over and kissed him, tasting citrus on his lips, "Of course I will. Just as long as you promise that we don't do those crazy six minute miles you seem so fond of."

"Pinkie promise, Dad!" Mattie spoke up, a dollop of cream cheese perched on her upper lip.

I held out my pinkie and he did the same. As we shook I realized that seven years ago, I would have never thought of myself pinkie promising with Bruce. In fact when I first met him twenty years earlier I would have never even imagined marrying him, let alone having and raising a child with him.

Things changed, I chided with myself, and they did so for the better.

V

"So what are you going to call this… business?"

I looked over at Barbara as she squeezed a lemon wedge into her tea. Before I could reply, Jim Gordon, who sat in the very chair that Bruce had been sitting in five hours earlier, smiled, "D and J's Security." I managed a smirk as well. It was funny and meant to break the ice but my mind was a million miles away.

After Bruce had left, I changed but had not gone to bed. I sat in the living room and stared out the window until Barbara woke a little before eight. She asked what was wrong and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't tell her. Before heading out, Bruce made me promise not to tell a soul. He wanted to speak with Tim before anyone else knew what was going on.

I had spent the three hours of sitting just thinking back and trying to remember every little thing I could about my time with Bruce. My time with Batman. And that year I spent with the man who had lost it all in the blink of an eye. There was plenty of bad, dark stuff in there, but all I could see was all the good he had brought to my life. When I was younger, even when I had been at odds with him, I couldn't help but think how important he was to me.

It was all I could think about.

Barbara's voice asked, "Dick, you all right, you've hardly eaten."

"What? Oh, sorry, tired I guess."

She sipped her tea, "Yeah, what was that last night?" Her father looked over at me, slightly confused and she clarified, explaining how I hadn't slept at all.

I shrugged, "It happens. Brain gets working and doesn't go back into low gear."

The change in conversation came in the form of Frank's grumbly bark as trotted back into the kitchen. Jim had brought him over, supposedly in fear of leaving him home alone. From the way he looked and talked to the dog, I knew it was because he simply wanted the dog at his side.

Frank paused between Jim and I, proudly displaying a damp sock. I took it from his mouth and held it up, "Hunh, I was looking for this… Here you go, buddy, guess it's yours now." I tossed it out into the hall and he yipped before taking after it.

"Back to business, shall we," I tempted another forced smile along with a British accent.

I had forgotten that Barbara had invited her father over for breakfast so I could work on some of the general details of our possible joint venture. When I had initially proposed it to him over dinner, he had been generally excited to not only get back into work, but to be invited to do so. Before he had left that night, we shook hands and he made me promise not to do cartwheels in the office. I drew the line at handstands though. How could a person possibly think clearly if they weren't upside down?

In light of my predicament, I would have to do a thousand back flips to clear my head.

Damnit, Bruce…

I picked at my eggs and bacon, sipped coffee and tried to pay attention as Barbara and Jim talked. But it seemed like everything they said faded into Bruce's words from the night before. All I could see was his tired face and all I could hear was his voice, quiet and fighting for control.

… I know. But Gotham will have a Batman…

The rest of breakfast was a blur. I must have stayed in the conversation on some level all on my own. As Jim set out to go back home, I patted Frank on his little flat face and picked him before handing him over to his "dad". I cracked a joke that I was free to babysit whenever needed and Jim had rolled his eyes at me.

After saying our good-bye's, I left my full plate and glass and retired to the bedroom. I laid out on the bed, eyes closed, and listened as Barbara picked up the kitchen. I wasn't sure how long, but eventually she came into the room and paused next to me.

"What's wrong?" she asked, taking my hand into hers.

I sighed, "I don't know." I looked over at her and then patted the empty spot on the bed next to me.

She smirked and climbed up onto the mattress before reclining next to me. She kissed my brow and then said, "You are not allowed to leave this bed until you are happy."

I half-smirked, "Is that a threat?" Usually I would have put a leer into my voice, but I couldn't summon the energy. Or the will.

As she brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear, she sighed, "I have a confession to make."

"Please tell me you're not a man."

She smiled, "No. I think I know what's bothering you."

"Oh?"

Barbara nodded, "I'm not the all knowing Oracle for nothing." I watched her take a deep breath before she continued; "Bruce has been tripping the sensor on the front window all week long."

"Wait, what sensor?"

I rolled my eyes, "The one I put in while you were drinking beer with your cop buddies a while back. Can I continue?"

"Yes."

"Anyway, Bruce has been tripping the sensor every night around four in the morning. My cameras have him breaking in, going into the kitchen and waiting until you come before he leaves out the back."

I closed my eyes, remembering how he had been sitting there in the dark. What had the other nights been? Practice? False starts? The more I had thought about it, the more I had realized how nervous he had been. Eyes shifting, voice changing from high to low…

Not that I could blame him.

"And then last night, it recorded him staying, talking with you…" she put a hand on my face, "Dick, what did he say?"

"I can't… Barbara, I'm sorry… he…" when I opened my eyes, I looked into her pair of glassy greens. I suppose simply watching what had transpired last night would be terrifying even without hearing the conversation. Bruce fidgeting. Me hugging him. Me drinking out of the carton…

"Please, Dick. I know something's going on with him, we all do. What I don't know is what. And from what I saw, I think he told you." When I didn't answer her, she moved her hand from my face to my fingers, gripping them tightly. I saw a flash of fear in her eyes, before she let loose a string of questions, the next coming out louder and quicker than the one before it, "What is it? Is he sick, is he hurt… Is something wrong with Selina… Or God, Mattie? What?"

I stopped her before her thoughts could go any further, "No… He made me swear to him, Babs, I can't break my promise. He'll… he will tell you, maybe not today but soon." I knew she wasn't the only one that wanted answers. Tim's wanting to find him last night… I hadn't told Bruce that Tim was troubled because I'm sure he was gearing up to talk to the young man and didn't need any more reasons to be worried.

She kept her eyes directed at me, "Okay. I'm sorry, but it's just that… seeing him like that… It was unreal. God, Dick, he looked scared."

I wondered how well my fears had come across the camera.

Or my tears.

V

I slipped through the service entrance of Wayne Manor a little after ten, the taste of Dana's French toast still in my mouth. As I fished my pocket for a stick of gum, I walked into the kitchen, surprised for once not to see Alfred. But he had been there at some point as there was a basket of oranges on the counter. I snatched one and figured that would taste better than a stick of stale Big Red.

When I walked down the hall, I tried to find any sound indicating that someone was there. As comfortable as I was with the residents, I wasn't about to go traipsing upstairs. But I was more than comfortable going downstairs.

After changing to shorts, I stretched on the training mats and then warmed up by mixing up shadow sparring, some jump rope and then a few sets of push ups and sit ups. The plan was that I would kill time working out, messing around on the computer, and maybe conning Alfred into making me lunch. All the while, I was to plot out how I was going to approach Bruce with my concerns. If I wasn't ready when I saw him, I planned on tracking him on patrols in order to talk to him then.

It wasn't until I was finishing my sit-ups that I felt it. It didn't matter if it was an icy winter eve in downtown Gotham or the cool stone floor of the Cave. When he was there, you still felt a chill down your spine.

I stood after finishing and looked around the Cave. Most of the lights were, only the basic ones that offered enough illumination so that you didn't fall to your death. Just as I was about to convince myself I was being foolish, I heard the softest of sounds towards the stairs. Far above, a cluster of Bruce's namesakes shrieked and fluttered off.

"Good morning," I called out, smiling as I identified the sound. Padded leather loafers on granite.

Bruce's form appeared as he stepped up to the training mat. His hair was still wet from his morning shower and he was dressed casually for the day in blue jeans and a navy polo. I noticed a bright red spot on his jaw line. A razor nick. After he paused at the mat he spoke, "I'm not interrupting am I?"

I shook my head, "Nah." As the cave went silent, my brain was filled with rapid thoughts. A hundred things to say and no idea how to say them.

"I want to talk to you," he said suddenly.

Well, that made things easier for me… I nodded and walked towards him.

"Not here," he said quietly before turning away from me and walked towards the dark center of the cavern. I half expected him to flip on the light switch but hadn't been too surprised when he proceeded in the dark.

For Bruce having to declare the need to talk to me, I was slightly confused when he simply kept walking in the, not uttering a word as I followed him a yard behind. After ten minutes of silence, I spoke up, "Before you say what you want, Bruce, I have a few questions for you."

He took a quick half step before returning to his normal stride, "Go on."

Instead of thinking it through and gathering my thoughts, I dumped my plan and went for it, "Fist of all, why have you been avoiding us?"

He paused and turned to face me. We were standing at the opening of a narrow entrance to a section of the Cave I had never been. The light from the main area permeated the darkness just enough for me to make out Bruce's face. I saw his jaw tighten before he replied, "I haven't been, not directly."

I shook my head, "That's not true, Bruce, ever since we took down Black Mask, hell, even before that… You've worked on your own, pushing cases onto us and taking care of your own work…" I took a moment to try and gauge his response but his face hadn't changed and he made no attempt to reply.

Finally, I heard him sigh softly, "Breaking up the work has always been a standard of practice. And with you and Batgirl handling the missing persons case, I could direct my focus elsewhere."

"Then why did you turn your homing signal off for two weeks?" Had I not been looking for it, I would have missed the corner of his lip twitching downward. When he didn't answer, I hit him with another low blow, "And Cass says that Barbara has been working on a new computer system. Working on upgrades for some secret location."

Another twitch.

"Bruce… I've been working with you for almost ten years. I trust you with my life today just as much as I did when I first started. But I can't go on thinking that you're keeping something from me. I like to think that you would trust me enough… To tell me if something was wrong."

He turned from me without uttering a word, crouching slightly before ducking through the small passageway. I followed him blindly, not sure if I was going to be welcome on the other side or not. As I maneuvered myself through the entranceway, I remembered one of the tests I had taken years earlier when I had first begun training with Bruce. Claustrophobia and being able to function without sight were handicaps that would not be tolerated. In order to drill that into my mind, he had me navigate the narrowest passages in the cavern, finding my way without accessories such as maps and flashlights.

Needless to say, I passed.

When I emerged on the other side, I was met with silence and darkness. I listened for Bruce's footfalls or at least his breathing but couldn't detect them amidst the scurrying of bats and the ever-constant dripping of water. I was about to call out his name when a flash of light registered in the middle. When my eyes adjusted, I realized it had been Bruce lighting up a flare. He was looking up at the roof of the small chamber we had entered, which caused an eerie shadow on his face that blacked out his eyes.

Not sure what else to say, I commented, "First time I've ever been in here."

He kept looking up, "I was six years old when I fell…" he looked down and pointed the flare towards the uneven stone floor, "I cut my knee, needed stitches. I can still hear my mother, calling out my name. The fear in her voice… And my father, coming to save me. I remember his fingers… covered in my blood. Two years later…" he took a moment to finish as he turned away from me, "Two years later, I had their blood on my fingers."

I took a step towards him, as I waited for him to continue. When I was in mid-step, he turned to face me once more, "I let you and Batgirl handle the missing persons case because I was confident that your efforts would prove successful. And they were. The work that I have Barbara doing is related to completing another one of the satellite Bat-caves in Bryanttown. Once finished, it will be primarily for your use."

"What about your homing signal? Why did you turn it off when we were in the middle of closing a case that important?"

As his eyes locked onto mine, he replied, "I needed to know you could handle something of that nature if… when I was no longer around."

"What do you mean when?" I asked quietly as my deepest fears settled heavily in my gut. Bruce kept his gaze aimed at me. He rarely made eye contact and when he did, I always found it difficult to maintain it with him. Those icy eyes…

"I made you take an oath, just as I made Dick, Barbara, Cassandra… and Jason… Loyalty, secrecy, courage. In the time you've spent in the guise of Robin I have yet to see you falter in upholding your word, of which I commend you on considering the trials you've faced."

As I listened to him, I fought to push back ancient memories of myself as an awkward teenager, training with the man, the hero I had studied and admired. Then, the countless memories that usually haunted me in my darkest hour.

"I'd do anything for you, Bruce, you know that."

He nodded, "I know that. It's actually the reason why you are the only one I can ask this of…"

As Bruce continued, I did my best to just stand there and listen to him. But as he stated his offer, as he asked that I step up and become the Batman, all I could do was look back at the last year, at all the little things that had changed and lead us to that very moment.

Batman letting us handle the rescue efforts when Firefly had decided to spread some holiday cheer.

… Check your re-breathers and stock up on foam pellets…

…Already done…

Bruce himself, something off but never being able to put a finger on it.

… He let me go down first and followed shortly after. I tried not to make it obvious, but I looked up occasionally and watched as he moved. We had been sitting for less than twenty minutes and because I knew him and trusted him as much as I did, I saw the stiffness…

And then the missing persons case and the face off with Sionis…

… In light of an unusual spike in criminal activity, Batman had decided that in order for the major problems to each receive attention, it was best to split the caseload…

Bruce reaching out…

… I wanted to congratulate you. And Cassandra. You did a good job last night. Over the last few weeks even…

It wasn't until I heard my own forced breaths echoing in the chamber that I realized Bruce had stopped talking. I did my best to regain control of my thoughts before asking, "Why did you choose me? I mean… Dick's stepped in for you before---."

"This is different. This isn't forced like when Pasqualle shot me or even when I was paralyzed by Bane. In a way it's voluntary… and it's permanent…"

The flare was slowly frizzing to its end of use, but I could still make out the look on Bruce's face, one that I would certainly never forget. Such uncertainty in his eyes… No doubt the same look was plastered on my face as well.

"I understand if you choose not to accept my offer. With it comes the same troubles and challenges that I once faced. But I cannot step down, I can't let Gotham go without knowing that there will be someone out there… watching over it."

As the flare offered its last ounce of light, I looked into his eyes.

My uncertainty was gone.

And so was his.

V

The first cowl had been made of dark cloth and had done little aside from irritate Master Bruce's ear lobes and leave his hair in a disarray after a long solitary night of patrols. Over the years, modifications had been necessary not only to improve the usefulness of the mask and provide efficiency in his work, but also to provide the necessary protection from those that dared to stand up against the Bat. The Starlite lenses and aural electronics improved Master Bruce's perception of his surroundings while the optional Kevlar implants and throat protection brace offered a slight peace of mind for myself whenever he stepped out into the night.

The cowl was the last item donned as part of the necessary physical and mental preparation and the first removed after nocturnal activities had ended.

And it was being passed onto another generation.

"Now do hold still, Master Timothy. The mold will only take a moment to solidify."

"Can I talk?"

"No," I answered as I went about wiping the fast drying latex from my hands.

It had been a nearly three weeks since Master Bruce officially announced his retirement, for a lack of a better word, I had assigned myself the task of altering the suit that Master Bruce had donned for do long in order for it to fit Master Timothy. In that time, I had fit the bodice itself, which remarkably needed little alteration considering how much the young man had grown in the last few years. As I had finished the new pair of gloves, I had mused to myself how much larger they were from the gloves Master Dick had first sported. Gloves that I had to mend constantly…

All that remained was the cowl, of which in itself was practically complete with the exception of the latex liner that would conform to Master Timothy's head and keep him as comfortable as possible the countless nights to come.

Unlike the others, it hadn't come as a shock to see Master Bruce take such a bold action. Then again, unlike the others, I had the opportunity and the privilege of being at his side for his entire life. The restlessness, avoidance and inward reflection were all signs of a great change that was brewing. I had seen them combined several times before.

Before he left to travel the world as a teenager.

When he returned to save Gotham and had nearly died from his first attempt.

The few nights before he had lost everything to Pasqualle when he had first been deliberating as to whether or not he deserved a life as a loved man.

And more recently, when he had been deciding the fate for not only himself but for those he considered to be his family.

And as always, he would bear the burden alone.

"Is it time?" Master Tim's voice startled me.

I glanced at my pocket watch and replied, "Fifteen seconds."

In less then eight hours, the first official night when the role of Batman was to become that of Timothy Drake would commence. Naturally, in order to help keep his mind off it, Ms. Selina had set up a night on the town for herself, Master Bruce and Miss Mattie.

For some reason known only to himself, Master Bruce had waited to tell his wife of such a monumental change until after had made arrangements with his protégés. He had told her in the confines of their bedroom the evening after he had spoken with Master Tim in the Cave. I had done my best to avoid the third floor, but when I took fresh towels and linens up for Mattie's room, I couldn't help but over hear loud questions and quiet pleas.

The next day, over tea, Ms. Selina had summarized their conversation and had shared the fact that Master Bruce had been troubled by the fact that she had initially been attracted to Batman, not Bruce Wayne. It didn't matter to him that she had stayed with him that dreadful year he had been recovering from amnesia and that she had given birth to his daughter and had even married him. He had still been worried that she would have thought less of him if he did not don the cowl at night.

She had told me that her reply to him was that there was no way in her right that she would have ever done any of those things just for Batman.

"All done, sir, if you'll hold still for just a moment I'll take it off."

As I carefully peeled the material back and off of his face, he smiled, "Whew… That stuff stinks."

"Wait until after a long, humid evening of August patrols, sir. I do believe it is the very definition of an appalling odor."

Once completely off, I watched as he ran a hand through his recently trimmed hair. It was hard to say whether he had taken to the shorter hairstyle for the summer weather or to limit the discomfort from his more familiar longer hair while wearing his new mask.

"Supposed to be a low of seventy-five tonight," he commented while standing from the stool he had been sitting on.

We were just inside the costume vault, finalizing his suit for that evening's patrol. He had been putting instruments into his utility belt and had been fixing the micro-digital camera that had apparently been taking less than ideal photographs recently. Electronic rubbish…

"Have you a busy schedule for the rest of the day, sir?"

He shrugged and closed a compartment of bolas, "No. Not really. Was pretty much going to hang out up here all day, Cass was coming up a little after seven and then I were going to head out."

"Ah. Then can I interest you in a celebratory lunch? Or dinner, perhaps both?"

Master Timothy looked up from the workbench and smirked, "Alfred, you know me all too well."

"Indeed, sir," I replied as I went about slipping the liner inside of the cowl. "Did you wish to try it on now?"

He looked at the mask, as I held it, his face suddenly somber, "No… I think I'll wait."

"Very well then," I set it on a small shaped frame beside the mask that Master Bruce had donned the night prior for the very last time.

When he had returned from patrols a little after three, I had been waiting for him with coffee and ham sandwiches. He had sat motionlessness in the 'Mobile for well over twenty minutes, hands on the steering wheel. As much as I wanted to approach him, I held my ground and waited him out. Eventually, he stepped out quietly and walked towards the costume vault as if everything was normal. As if in twenty-four hours he would be doing the same instead of his young pupil…

But he wouldn't.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes for him to undress and emerge dressed in a dark housecoat. I had offered a smile and the refreshments but as always, he brushed them off with a glare. I stood by and watched on as he logged his activities of the night and then smirked to myself when he finally reached for the mug of French Vanilla roast.

Before I could have asked if there was anything else I could do, he had said, "I told Jim Gordon."

"Oh?"

"At first he seemed upset, but when I told him about Tim… He said he couldn't wait to see Batman convince the new commissioner to change her mind about vigilantes."

We had talked a little longer on the various crimes he had come across that night before he had switched back into his working mode. From what I saw in his speech and behavior, it had been a good night to end on.

After setting Master Tim's mask onto its holder, I glanced at Master Bruce's cowl and fought the urge to reach out and touch it. Instead, I turned back to look at Master Tim and asked him if he had preferences for his meal.

He shrugged, "Surprise me, Alfred."

I nodded and left him to his work. Upstairs the Manor was nearly as silent as the caverns below it. Master Bruce was not due back until after five from Wayne Enterprises and Ms. Selina and were at the Preserve for the day. As I made my way to the kitchen, I thought on how it resembled a time when another young and driven man sought refuge in his work in the Cave while I found mine in the kitchen. But then I thought on how Master Bruce had grown and started a family with the woman he loved, very much the same as when Master Thomas had started his own family.

A family that had been destroyed through tragedy.

I prayed that a similar fate did not rest for Master Bruce.

V

I had suited up in less than ten minutes.

Tim had been working on it for forty-five minutes and he still wasn't done.

Not that Bruce showing up halfway through hadn't helped matters.

Although I had been actually the last person told about Bruce stepping down, in a way, I had been the first. The night he had told Tim, I went to his apartment after patrols and we had spent what had been left of the night talking about his concerns and thoughts. It was then, as we sat on his couch drinking hot cocoa and sharing a bowl of ice cream that I realized I couldn't lie to him or myself any longer.

I told him the truth.

He wasn't mad. In fact he had actually been wondering how coincidental it had been that he had been somewhat tricked into preparing for the step up with the increased training. I had joked that was good he finally caught on or else he would give the world's greatest detective a bad name.

He was scared. After talking for nearly three hours he finally admitted that he wasn't sure if he could do the job. I sat and listened as he lamented on the fact that solving one big case on his own was nowhere near the level of experience needed to be Batman. I tried to convince him otherwise by pointing out all of the things had taken part in over the years and how much of a difference he made. He still wasn't buying it.

I thought of one instance when he showed his worth, of which there was no way he could deny.

It had been over a year earlier, on one of our last nights on patrol together before I left for Europe to train for the summer. I had been chasing down a mugger who had shot a young woman who had been working the register at a grocery store. The perp had tried to seek out cover in an aged apartment building, one long since condemned and occupied by squatters. I had followed him up the stairs into a third floor flat while Robin had scaled the fire escape. Literally no way out.

Without lights, the gunner tripped and stumbled about the empty rooms, gun hand shaking as he gave off waves of fear. I had kept to the shadows and was about to make my presence known when the guy screamed frantically, "Where are you!"

Before I could answer, I spotted Robin behind the perp, barely visible even with my trained eyes. As the mugger backed closer to him, Robin growled in response, "Here," before lurching out and knocking him unconscious with two quick blows to the head.

After reminding him of that night and watching his face calm, I added, "That shows that it's true. You can do it because you already have. Just a different mask."

"Just," he had sighed.

"Ready yet?" I called from the computer bay. He growled something in reply and I smirked briefly under my mask.

It had been over ten minutes since Bruce had left for the night. He was spending it with his family in town so he had been dressed for the occasion in a nice midnight suit, slate shirt with a white collar and a deep maroon tie. Even thought he was in civilian clothes, I could still see the man underneath, the man I had known for years.

The Batman.

His visit had been as brief as it was awkward. He commented on a few things he had come across the night before in the Bowery and suggested that we check in at some point. Before leaving he had added that if anything major went down, to have Barbara call him. Afterwards, Tim had joked that Bruce wanted an excuse from a night of being normal.

It had been odd patrolling with him the night before. I had expected him to tour the city furiously, to hunt down every criminal and to search every dark alley, more so than he had been for the last few weeks. Instead, he seemed to revert back to his old self: alternating riding in the 'Mobile and working on foot, all the while randomly checking in with us and then signing off before I could say anything else besides our location and status.

The good old times.

Just as I was about to call out to him again, he stepped out of the costume vault. I couldn't help but stare; for it was the first time I had seen the entire suit on him rather than the bits and pieces of it as I had over the last few weeks. The cape billowed over his shoulders and the edges danced on the floor as he walked towards me. The fitted shape of the suit itself only accented the form he had worked so hard at creating. As Bruce had recently, Tim had kept the black-gray bodice with the dark emblem emblazoned across his chest.

All that was left was for him to pull on the mask.

I stood from my seat and closed the distance between us. He must have been bothered or humored from my gawking because he smirk, "What? Do I have toilet paper stuck on my boot?"

I shook my head and stopped mere inches from him. Without thinking, I reached up and traced the emblem on his chest. He looked down at me, his smirk fading into a familiar frown.

"Nervous still?" I asked.

"Nah. How hard can it be to step into the shoes of a living legend?" he sighed and added, "You know, when I first became Robin, I never even dreamt that this would happen. I knew I would be the best Robin I could be, no matter what and that I would do the job for as long as I could… But some day I would have left it all behind, have a normal life…"

I dropped my hand from his chest and took a hold of his gloved hand. After squeezing it softly, I replied, "I once thought that the only thing that mattered was being Batgirl. Being Cassandra was unimportant. I never thought that I could gain anything in life by being normal and ordinary. I told myself relationships or friendships would only slow me down..."

After I let him go, I finished, "Things change."

He nodded in agreement and took a deep breath before reaching up and pulling the cowl over his head. As he lowered his hands to his sides, I noticed his eyes were still closed. Bruce did that whenever he donned the cowl, taking a moment to erase away all of his outside concerns so that he could transform.

When he opened them, he spoke in a deep gravelly voice, "Let's get to work."

V

Mattie looked up at us in disbelief, "I get to pick anything I want?"

"Anything," Selina turned back to face our daughter in the backseat.

We had just finished dinner and were traveling down 57th towards the Theatre District. Without any set plans, it was up to my six and a half year old daughter to decide as to what would be our form of entertainment for the evening.

I watched her in the rear view mirror as she looked out her window, staring at the cars and surrounding buildings. Of all the people I considered to be my family, she was the only one that treated me the same. The second they knew, it seemed that they had taken a step away from me, retreated the tiniest fraction. I had at first thought it had been out of shock but I realized they were distancing themselves simply because they were scared of what was ahead. They all accepted my reasoning and had stated no conflict but I could see the fear in their eyes. The same fear I saw in my own when I stared at myself in the mirror.

If she only knew the reason why her father would be home at night…

Selina's hand snaked over and settled on my knee. I looked over at her and offered a quick smile of reassurance. Of all people, it seemed as if it was the hardest to tell her. When I had explained how I had been considering it for so long and that I had been preparing things for Tim to take over, she had gotten upset. But not because I had lied to her, but simply because she had not been included in such a major part of my life.

That night when I had returned from patrols, she had been awake and waiting for me in bed. After I slipped in beside her, she moved over and kissed me softly before asking me, "Can you promise me something?"

"Anything," I had replied while finding her eyes in the dark room.

"Don't hide anything from me ever again."

"I promise."

The time from the night that I had met with Dick in the Clocktower to the night that Tim was officially stepping up had breezed by. In between working during the day and going to Mattie's soccer practices and one of her games and spending time with Selina in addition to touring the city at night, I had barely found time to speak with Tim. And even when I had, I hadn't known what to say to him. Alfred, on the other hand, had been spending a considerable amount of time with him and relayed any questions and answers that we had for one another.

As I sat at the red light two blocks from the Theatre District, I cursed myself for avoiding him.

I must have let my leg tense for Selina began to trace circles on my leg with her fingernails. I had to relax. I promised her I would… For Mattie. As far as she knew we were spending the night on the town to celebrate her last weekend before starting first grade. She was already talking about school field trips and Bring Your Daughter to Work days.

"Can we go see a movie?" Mattie asked suddenly.

Selina looked back at her again, "Sure thing. Any one in particular?"

I watched her reflection shrug, "I don't know… Katrina saw the new one about the kangaroo family. She said it was really funny."

"Well, what do you think?" Selina asked, her tone asking the underlying question: Are you okay seeing a movie in a theatre?

The luxury of being wealthy meant that I could have private screenings of practically any film I wanted in the comfort of my own home. I hadn't been to see a film in a theatre since the night my parents had died, some deep, subconscious factor coming into play. I wasn't afraid of doing it; I simply had no desire or reason to go through with it. Or to risk it.

Until then.

For Mattie…

"Sure," I nodded, "We can go to the new one on Beverley Ave."

"Yeah!" Mattie cried form the back seat.

We made it just in time for the eight o clock showing of "The Hoppy Bunch." After picking up three tickets in the lobby and a small tub of popcorn, we walked together towards the theatre entrance manned by a single usher. With every step I took, I waited for the old memories to surface. The smell of my father's cologne. The sparkly pearl necklace that had been around my mother's neck. The sweet, sticky smell of the theatre.

Of their blood…

But to my surprise, they never came. I walked alongside my wife and daughter, found seats towards the back and then proceeded to sit in their company for a little over an hour while the latest CGI film played on the screen. I listened to my daughter laugh and felt Selina's breath on my neck as she leaned against my shoulder. Even still, I knew that any second, I knew it would happen…

After the film let out, Mattie bounded and bounced as she walked in between Selina and I, her hand latched onto each of ours. I knew how she felt. I remembered busting out of the Monarch, my pretend sword slicing through the cold night air. I may have gone in as an eight-year-old boy but I had left Zorro, protector of the people. Even though it was downtown Gotham, I could hear the thunder of Toronado's hooves. All of it brought on by the joy of being lost in another world where those who did wrong were punished and those who did right were never hurt.

We had parked two blocks from the theatre in a private lot. The closer lots had already been filled by those who had planned out their evening before we had. After reminding Mattie to keep a hold of our hands, we walked down the well-lit sidewalks, enjoying the warmth of the night. When we paused at a crosswalk, I looked up and down both streets.

Mattie giggled, "Look left and right, then left and right again…"

I couldn't shake that gut feeling that someone was out there watching me…

With a slight smirk, I looked skyward and scanned the rooftops. It took only a minute to find him, perched on the corner of the Landmark Theatre. Despite the fact that he was four stories up, I did my best to lock my gaze with his. As he remained absolutely motionless, I mused with myself that it did make you look like a gargoyle…

Mattie tugged on my arm and looked in the same direction as me, "What are you looking at, Dad?"

I was about to tell her it was nothing when a great flash of light seared the sky, its focal point coming from Tri-Corner's most famous building: Gotham City Police Department. Apparently the new commissioner had a change of heart…

"Dad, look, look!" Mattie cried out as she let go of her mother's hand and pointed at the Bat-Signal. The direction it fanned out in only caused the dark form on the rooftop to stand out more. I noticed he had turned to look at it as well before looking back down at me. I nodded and he stood and disappeared.

Mattie gasped, also noticing the dark cowled figure, "Dad, was that Batman?"

After a moment, I looked down at her, a slight smile on my lips, "The one and only."

V

FINIS

Stay tuned, the epilogue is on its way…


	22. One And Only: Epilogue

Title: One And Only: Epilogue

Author: D C Luder

Summary: Third in the Series of Three storyline. Set four years after the conclusion of Life Is Good. The Family moves on and... apart?

Rating: T (AKA The Rating Formerly Known As PG-13 ;) )

Infringements: All recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

Author's Note: It is highly advisable that you read Time Will Tell and Life Is Good or you may be a tad bit lost. I am writing this due to the numerous requests for a sequel. That and I am absolutely obsessed with the concept of the Bat and Cat living happily ever after.

A/N 2: References made to general continuity. Thanks to Chris for helping me make yet another delightfully awkward scene for Cass and Tim.

V

"… Wow."

"I get it Clark, you're surprised… and you can stop staring now."

With wide eyes, I watched on as Bruce added honey to his tea knowing that I couldn't have looked elsewhere even if I had wanted to.

When he had invited me over for breakfast, I had been unsure as to his intentions, especially since our last meeting had been fairly uncomfortable. I had arrived five minutes early that Wednesday morning to find him already on the rear terrace with the iron wrought table set for two. As soon as I had taken a seat, Alfred had appeared out of nowhere with a cup of coffee, three sugars, and announced that breakfast would be ready momentarily. When he left, I took a sip of the perfectly brewed liquid and then chanced a gaze over at Bruce's form. It was just before eight in the morning and he appeared well rested and unscathed.

Something was definitely not right.

After our plates arrived, full of steaming eggs, lightly buttered raisin toast with fresh fruit salad on the side, I had asked Bruce what was going on. He sighed, fooled around with his food a bit before answering me.

The only reply I could manage was, "Just… wow… When did this happen?"

He sipped from the cup and looked away from me. After setting it back down on the saucer he returned to pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate. Unsure as to how to answer me or just a lack of appetite?

Finally, Bruce looked up and replied, "Tim's only had the cowl for a week. So don't think that I've kept you in the dark."

"Well, you never know…" He shot me a glare and I offered him a smirk.

Truce.

Being one of the most valuable members of the Justice League in addition to those deemed by the public as superheroes, Bruce had been one of the truly rare individuals who were truly mortal. He had no super powers or abilities and relied solely on his self-discipline and internal drive. Because of that very reason, I admired him more than I could ever hope to tell him. However, despite his unique skills as a detective and combatant, he was still a man. A man with limits. A man with scars inside and out.

I could recall countless occasions where Batman would emerge somewhat unharmed from massive assaults and battles the League had entered, and then head off to his own city for patrols despite the toll the encounters had taken on him. Another one of his unique traits had been the ability to put aside his own pain and suffering in order to prevent harm to come to others. Behind his back and to his face, I had always joked that he would outrun us all just on his sheer will alone.

"Bruce, I… Do you want me to tell the others?" I asked suddenly.

He shook his head, "No. There's no reason for them to know and if there is, they can figure it out on their own."

I nodded, "Very well."

As I summoned the courage to ask him why he had volunteered to hand over the cowl to his younger protégé, I heard soft giggling from inside the house. I both looked towards the open glass doors to see Mattie skipping towards us, "Uncle Clark!"

"Hey there," I grinned as she jumped up onto my lap, arms wrapping tightly about my neck.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she finally released her hold on me.

I looked over at her father and said, "Your dad invited me over for breakfast so we could talk about a few things."

Her glassy blue eyes looked straight into mine, "Oh. Did he tell you about my horse show?"

With a smile, I shook my head, "No, he didn't."

Mattie shot a look of disbelief at Bruce, "You didn't tell him? It's the biggest news ever!"

Bruce shrugged, "Figured I let you tell him."

She rolled her eyes as she turned back to face me, "Uncle Clark, I went to a horse show with Rusty and I won every class and then at the end of the day I got a trophy and a big ribbon! It's in my room, you should come see it."

Bruce cleared his throat, "After breakfast, Mattie."

"I could bring it down here."

Bruce spoke again, "After breakfast, kitten. And after you get dressed."

"Dad…"

"Yeah, Dad," another voice mock-whined. I looked over to see Selina leaning against the doorframe, black wavy hair slipping over her bare shoulders. She was dressed for the day, unlike her pajama-clad daughter, in a tank top and khaki Capri pants. I locked eyes for a moment and she said, "Morning, Clark."

I nodded back, "Morning. Mattie was just telling about her victory with Rusty."

"I'll have to send you and Lois the pictures. It was quite the day, wasn't it, Mattie?"

She smiled at me, "It was fun," she then leaned closer and whispered into m ear, "Except Dad got sunburn… and he stepped in horse poop." My smile widened and I had to keep myself from snickering.

Selina spoke up suddenly, "Well, let's get you clothed and fed, kid."

"I want to eat out here," Mattie declared.

Her mother shook her head, "Sorry, hon, Dad and Clark were out here first. Besides, if you ask Dad, maybe we can eat on the couch and watch cartoons."

Bruce sighed when his daughter looked over at him, begging to have breakfast in the den. He nodded reluctantly and watched as she hopped off of my lap and skipped back into the house. While watching her, I had no doubt in my mind that somehow, she figured into Bruce's decision to---.

"Clark, I need you promise me something."

I pushed my glasses up and replied, "All right." I had to admit; watching him fidget this way was one of the most unnerving experiences I had ever been faced with. Add taking an oath from him…

"This…. Shift is going to take time for him to adjust to. Even still, once things get settled he and Cassandra and Dick if he stays… They'll have a lot to deal with here…" he stood suddenly and approached the terrace railing. After he set his hands on the ironwork, he looked towards the woods in the distance, "I'm not saying he's not ready, all I'm saying is that he needs to stay focused…"

I nodded, "On Gotham."

He nodded as well, "If you asked him to join the League, Clark, I know he would have a hard time turning it down."

After a moment, I rose as well and stood beside him at the railing. Following his gaze, I smirked to see a pair of does edging their way out onto the grass. It wasn't long before a soft sound in the woods caused them to jump and take off, bounding into the trees.

"Batman was always an important figure in the League. Maybe someday, he will be again… But not now. And besides," I grinned as I turned to face Bruce, "Flash has your old chair… wanted to sit closer to Diana."

A small smirk formed on his lips but quickly vanished, "Well, before you take off, you better let Mattie show you her trophy. If you don't, I'll never hear the end of it."

He turned and led the way into the house. I let a few strides of silence pass before asking, "When does she start school up again?"

Bruce paused slightly before answering, "Next Tuesday."

"First grade," I sighed, "Can't believe it's been a year already…"

"I can," he muttered softly as I turned left and crossed a main foyer before entering the den. Sure enough, Mattie and Selina were camped out on the leather couch, eating bagels and picking at bunches of grapes. The second I entered, Mattie looked over at us and jumped to her feet, "Wanna go up to my room, Clark?"

"I'd love to," I smiled.

I watched as she popped two more grapes into her mouth before walking towards me. Before she could grab my hand and lead me towards the stairs, Bruce offered his own hand and, "Thanks for coming, Clark."

"Anytime," I said while gripping his palm, "Anytime."

V

"Almost done," I said to the small child sitting on the exam table. His mother, a full-time waitress at Garf's Deli ten blocks north, was standing just behind me, a nervous smile on her face.

The child paused and then squealed in over-dramatized pain as I injected the tetanus toxoid into his blood. I deftly removed it and pressed a small wad of gauze over the tiny hole in his arm. After quickly offering a sugar free lollipop and rainbow sticker, the tears ceased and a fraction of a smile appeared.

After helping him off the exam table, he bounded towards the door, his too-big basketball jersey swinging back and forth as he moved. I then turned to the mother, who had been a patient of mine for less than a year, "Andrew will be fine, the cut was fairly small and the tetanus is just a booster. The stitches can be taken out in two weeks, just come back then and we'll see her quick."

The tall woman nodded and then strode after her son who had begun to wander the corridor. At the door, she half-turned and offered a tired smile, "Thank you, Leslie."

"Anytime, dear."

After cleaning off the counter and the exam table, I washed my hands and smoothed out my white coat. When I passed through the door, I shut the lights off and headed towards my office. It was finally one-thirty and time for a fifteen-minute lunch break. The door to my office was shut, which was odd because when Alfred waited for me there he always left it ajar. And when I left it, the door was always wide open.

I opened the door and stepped into the room. Empty except for that odd feeling in the deep of my stomach. I smiled.

"Bruce, it's daylight out…"

I turned and looked behind the door where Bruce was hiding. He was dressed in blue jeans, leather sandals and tan polo. He was studying the potted daffodils that sat in a wicker basket on my file cabinet. When he faced me, he smirked.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I asked after closing the door and walking towards him.

"Alfred said he couldn't make it for lunch. Sent me instead."

I smiled, "Oh?"

Bruce glanced at his watch before comparing the time with the clock on the wall, "I hope that's not a problem."

"For you, Bruce, I'll even double my break."

At the mention of lunch Bruce motioned to my desk where a brown paper bag was sitting on the rare vacant spot, "He made lunch for us…"

"Lovely. Mind if we eat outdoors? It's such a beautiful day."

Eight minutes later, we were seated on a bench under one of the towering oak trees of Hyden Park. I chose the ham sandwich and Bruce took the roast beef. Unlike lunch with Alfred, Bruce worked hard on eating and drinking instead of talking. Not unexpected considering he was who he was…

"So tomorrow's the big day?"

He nodded and swallowed before replying, "We're having dinner at six if you're free."

I nodded, "I'll do my best."

"I've heard that before."

I looked over at him and smirked, "So have I."

Bruce paused before saying, "Touché."

Another silent minute passed by before I inquired, "So, have you seen Dr. Rodgers?"

Bruce took a deep breath and looked down the street instead of answering. In light of his retirement, I had taken the opportunity to push for the knee surgery he had been declining for two years. It would require ten hours of surgery, a week's stay in the hospital, two weeks of bed rest followed by four months of physical therapy. In his role as Batman, there had been no possible way for him to under go the surgery, but now…

"I have an appointment next week for a physical exam and an MRI."

"Good. Todd's an excellent orthopedic surgeon, one of the best on the East coast…"

"Right."

After we had eaten, chatted on how school shopping had gone, it finally came down to a topic that Selina and I had discussed for four years, and even more so in the last month, but one I had never mentioned in front of Bruce.

"Speaking of children, have you made a decision? Last I spoke with Selina, the ball was in your court."

I watched as he leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. When I asked him what was wrong he replied, "Nothing… I had hoped that for just once Selina could keep things… quiet. For a little while, anyway." When I reached over and set a hand on his shoulder, he opened his eyes and looked down at me. He continued, "And no I haven't decided."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. There are so many reasons why we should try to… But then again, there are reasons why not…"

"Bruce Wayne, you mean to tell me you can justify not having another child with the woman you love?"

He waited before answering, "In a way… yes."

"Oh this I have to hear."

"Leslie… I'm forty-two years old. Men my age have children going to college, not first grade."

"But men your age didn't spend a vast majority of their adulthood on rooftops."

"And a six year gap between Mattie and another child---."

"Would be just fine," I interrupted, "I remember when you were six years old and your parents were just starting to think about having another child. They decided to wait and…" I watched as he winced slightly. To anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but I knew better. I lowered my hand and set it on his, squeezing it gently, "Bruce, time has a way of slipping by. Don't put something like this off until it's too late."

After he squeezed back, he stood and gathered the leftovers and empty containers from our lunch. While walking back to the Clinic, he tossed them into a mesh trashcan. It wasn't long before he had reverted to his silent ways and with only two blocks from saying good-by to one another, I went for it, "So I haven't seen the Batman recently. I take it he must be fairing well."

Bruce nodded, "He's doing fine."

"That's good to hear. At any rate, I'm getting too old for those late night raps on the back door." After we crossed the street, I paused at the front entrance, "Well, I best be getting back. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Okay," he said as he went to turn away. I grabbed his wrist gently and when he stopped to face me, I wrapped my arms round his neck. Slowly, I felt his left arm slip around my waist and heard his whisper at my ear, "Thank you, Leslie."

When I let him go, I asked, "For what?"

"Does it matter?" he winked and proceeded to head to his car.

When he was out of earshot, I said, "No, it doesn't."

V

As I lay on the blanket in the middle of Robinson Park, I held my breath to keep from hiccupping.

"Shouldn't have drank the soda so fast, Dick," Barbara smirked as she reclined beside me.

I would have mocked her but I knew if I opened my mouth I would succumb to the hiccup.

We had decided to spend the first Saturday in September out and about. I spent the morning in Townsdale, an hour north of Gotham, antiquing and shopping at the farmer's market. After I made a quick stop at the Clocktower to unload everything, Barbara packed a small picnic basket and we headed out for the park. Waiting until three to eat had left me famished and after engulfing three turkey sandwiches and a dozen strawberries, I had made the mistake of guzzling down a can of soda.

And now I had the hiccups.

"Selina called this morning when you were showering," Barbara suddenly announced, "Said they were going to have another 'First Day of School' dinner we were interested."

I smirked and touched her arm, "At least this time we can go –hih- together."

She smiled back at me as she turned her head towards me, "Very true. But you never know, there's tomorrow and Monday for us to get into a major blowout fight before the dinner."

"I don't have time to –hih- get in a fight, woman. I have to get that office –hih- cleaned up for Monday."

"Because you have so many clients lined up just begging for your consultation." I rolled my eyes and she slapped my chest. When I raised my brow, she shrugged, "There was a fly, I swear."

"As a matter of fact I do –hih- have someone already interested in my services."

"Oh? Who?"

"Edna."

"The dry cleaning lady?"

"She said she –hih- had a few concerns about the security of –hih- her business and was seeking consultation."

"But… the dry cleaning lady?"

Although Barbara joked, I knew she was supportive about the venture Jim and I were starting for a number of reasons. First, it gave me a purposeful occupation in the city I had grown up in, one that would not bore me to tears nor run me ragged. Second, it gave her father an opportunity to continue helping the city he had helped pull from the jaws of corruption so many years ago. Third, it gave us both something to do so we would stop hanging around the Clocktower and bugging the hell out of her.

"Anyone else you have lined up for the fall season?" she asked, barely keeping a straight face.

"I offered Bruce a ten-percent discount to do the Manor –hih- but he just sat there and stared at me."

"I wonder why…" she sighed as her eyes closed.

I paused before adding, "I thought it was a reasonable offer… Your Dad only wanted to give him five." She laughed and I joined her. "I guess the painters are coming Monday afternoon, so that –hih- means we have to have everything picked up and covered in plastic."

"Please tell me you're not going to help them."

"Wish I could help, but they said they had it covered… I'm not that bad of a painter…"

She snickered, "Dick, remember a few years back when I redid my kitchen?"

"… Maybe."

"And remember how you painted your name on the wall and then painted over it, thinking it would hide it?"

"… Maybe."

"And remember how it didn't work so you kept painting layers over it and then when I had to paint the rest of the room I didn't have enough?"

"… You know, now that you mention it… Yeah, I recall something like that… Maybe not –hih- exactly but close to it."

She sighed again, and then moved closer to me on the blanket. I stretched my arm out and let her rest her head on my chest before wrapping my arm around her back. "Guess it's a good thing that when I was a cop, I already had a job to moonlight with instead of becoming a contractor or a painter or whatever like the rest of the guys."

"Guess so," Barbara replied.

After ten minutes of silence, I realized that my hiccups had disappeared. I gave a sigh of relief and settled into a slight doze with Barbara. Gotham had a warm, muggy summers and this one had been no different. The afternoon yielded a slight breeze that the humid morning had not. The nights had been this side of torture with the weather making the criminals cranky. But at least they were able to commit crimes in shorts and wife-beaters; a full body suit did nothing to keep one cool in the midst of bashing skulls and dropping in on meth labs.

Tim had been Gotham's new guardian for nearly two weeks and so far everything was running smoothly. Even though he now had his own mini-cave and I had the use of the Clocktower, we both frequented the Bat-cave to train, spar and annoy the hell out of Alfred.

And Bruce.

I was still surprised at how he was taking everything. In the middle of me freaking out about him retiring and Tim stepping up, I hadn't really given much thought as to how he was seeing everything. After all, his entire life had been devoted to being Batman and now it was all over… Our Friday night dinners had been a staple of life for a while, but now I made sure I was there even earlier so that I could play catch up with Bruce. He never really wanted to talk about things, but I still went the extra mile to at least try. I had to because I knew he wouldn't.

That's not to say that just because he wasn't behind the cowl that Bruce was no longer involved. Instead of hearing only Oracle over the comm. link at night, I now had the luxury of hearing his gritty voice. He would start to order us around as if he was out there with us, but then he would catch himself and turn his commands into suggestions.

I wondered if Selina was standing behind him, hitting him in the head whenever he went too far.

"You asleep?" Barbara asked suddenly.

I took a moment to respond, "Yes, actually."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she checked her wristwatch. I looked at it myself and was surprised to see that it was nearly five-thirty.

"Where did the day go?" she asked herself while sitting up.

After sat up as well, I replied, "Well a good chunk of it was lost standing in line behind that old lady who wanted to buy pre-sliced pineapples."

Barbara smirked as she reached for her water bottle, "I felt bad for her… She had to have been eighty years old, practically deaf… How many times did they have to explain things to her? At least a half of a dozen."

I began to pick up our trash and said, "If I ever get that way, Babs, just put me out of misery."

"I will."

When I stood to go to the garbage can, I replied, "That was a little too eager."

She nibbled on the last strawberry and shrugged, "You asked me something and I said I would."

My brow arched at her words. I knelt next to her and set down the soda can and empty carton of berries, "Oh… Is that so?"

"It is," she smirked at me, eyes glowing in the afternoon sun.

"Well, then let me rephrase my question and let's see if you say you will again."

I wiped my hands together and took a breath while I formulated the question in my head. I had been formulating said question for years and had yet to get it figured out. The other night, Jim Gordon and I had been eating chilidogs after a long afternoon of rearranging office furniture in our new "headquarters". I had asked his permission to ask the question I was formulating and he had stood and hugged me, "It's about damn time, son."

As I reached into my pocket, I smiled, thinking to myself that at least my hiccups were gone. That would have killed a marriage proposal for sure.

Here goes nothing, I told myself.

"Barbara, will you…"

V

After decking a thug in the jaw, I shot out a roundhouse that landed in the flabby stomach of one of his comrades. Another blow to each of them and they were out cold on the damp pavement, allowing me a moment to regain my balance before turning to face Nightwing, "You what!"

He held up one hand to me, gesturing to wait a minute just before he ducked the wide arc of a tire iron. Instead of standing to be in the path of the back swing, he dove forward, shoulder first, into his assailant's abdomen. As the iron clattered to the ground, Nightwing wrapped his gloved arms around the thug, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. The move took both of them to the ground but only Nightwing stood back up.

As he brushed dirt off of his gloves, he looked over at me, "I proposed to her."

"Why?" I blurted out, doing my best to keep my voice from lightening.

Nightwing shrugged while he retrieved plastic cuff ties from a pouch on his right glove, "I love her. Seemed to be reason enough."

I retrieved similar cuffs from my utility belt and went to work at binding our newfound friends. I had been working standard patrol along the docks in Chinatown and had happened upon a quaint drug smuggling group trying to unload the goods from a small freight boat. It had been the first big action we had come across that night.

"Did you ask her father first?"

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair after he had secured the last of the thugs, "Of course. I'm not suicidal… He's pretty excited, though."

"And you're not?"

Nightwing smirked as he looked over at me, "I'm more than happy. I can't even describe it."

"So does this mean you're going to be in Gotham full time?"

Nightwing shrugged and answered, "I keep telling myself that I have enough to deal with here in Gotham with the consultant firm and Barbara and this but the Haven… It still needs a lot of work. I lost so much time over the last year… I figured the least I could do is run up there a few times a week, thump some skulls to refresh their memories of the Wingster," he looked over at me and winked, "Maybe even con this big, scary bat guy I know into a monthly visit to scare the pants off of a few no-gooders."

"Perhaps," I muttered while pulling out my grapple gun. I fired a shot to the roof of a seven-story apartment building and once retracted, accelerated quickly skyward. A moment later, Nightwing landed on the roof beside me. We watched silently from above as the neighbors slowly came out of hiding in the various alleys and late night seafood restaurants. Not ten minutes later, a pair of black and whites pulled up as well as a black van. As the patrolmen loaded up the prisoners, another squad car showed up, this one yielding to two familiar faces: Detective Renee Montoya and Commissioner Erin Kelsey.

Nightwing snickered, "Guess we caused a real ruckus to warrant her presence."

"Hm," I replied while studying the new commissioner. She walked over to the three remaining thugs, who were finally coming to, talking to them while she pointed at their bonds. One of them replied and she stormed off back to the patrol car.

"And here I thought she was just getting to like us," he sighed.

"I spoke with her last night," I admitted.

"Oh?"

I nodded, "Less threatening than the last time. I was able to slip out before she ordered me to leave."

"Ah she'll warm up to us. When the next time Bane or the Joker tries to take over the city…" I shot him a look and he muttered, "Sorry. Guess that was pessimistic. If… If the next time."

I stood on the edge of the roof, in full view for those who were looking. Montoya and Kelsey were at the car they had arrived in, wrapped up in a heated discussion. When Montoya turned to put her radio back on her belt, she did a double take and looked up at me. I nodded slightly just before she spoke to the commissioner who then looked up as well. She shook her head, let her shoulders fall with a sigh and then opened the door to get into the car.

She had arrived in Gotham shortly before I had taken the cowl from Bruce. He had met with her a few times and despite her crude outlook on our work, felt that she would eventually be inclined to understand the necessity of it. One night in the Cave while I had been reviewing logs from an earlier case, he had told me how that initially Jim Gordon had been on a mad run to see to it that Batman was brought in. And how it had only taken one act of bravery, of Batman saving an old woman from getting hit by a bus for Gordon to see the truth.

The masked man was not a hazard for the city, but a hero.

"Wow, is it really half past four?"

I turned away from the scene below to see Nightwing yawning. After a quick glance back to see Kelsey and Montoya on their way out, I walked over to him. "Heading in?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Hate to keep the old lady waiting up for me."

"I heard that," a soft voice came over the comm. Link.

I allowed myself a quick smile before leaving him, talking to his fiancée.

Since the weather had been nice and I hadn't made it up to Bristol that night, I had taken the cycle out for the night and it took ten minutes to get to where I had parked it. The ride to Bryanttown on the practically empty streets was a little under fifteen minutes and I made it to the satellite cave just as the clock read five in the morning. I changed into jeans and a tee shirt before hopping back on the bike and driving to my apartment.

I had found myself patrolling longer and heavier than I had as Robin and hadn't decided the reason why, yet. Part of me figured that without Bruce working as well, there was all that more to do. But there really wasn't. The other part of me wanted to make Bruce proud. And I hoped I had.

After a quick stop in the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, I headed for the bathroom for a nice hot shower. Smelling of sweat and seawater was not too appealing at that point. As I let the water warm up, I shaved the two-day's worth of stubble from my jaw and mentally prepared for the day. Even though I didn't truly need a job, I had a longing to do something during the daylight hours aside from classes, even if it was part-time computer repair at some company. So the day was to be spent reading classifieds, dropping off resumes and then to end on a good note, dinner up in Bristol to commemorate Mattie's first day as a first grader.

Clean-shaven, I stepped into the shower and let the water splash on my head and run down my shoulders and chest. After I had started to scrub my arms, I heard a faint sound in the hallway and then a rap at the bathroom door. Interesting, because the last time I checked, I most definitely lived alone…

"Tim?"

Startled, I asked, "Cassandra?" The door opened as she passed through and then closed behind her. Once it was shut I asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did the Signal go off?"

"No, I'm fine. No I… I was wondering if was all right if I stayed here. Give Dick and Barbara some time to be alone."

"Oh…. Oh, right," I said, "Well, that's fine." I let out a breath, reminding myself that something didn't always have to be wrong.

"Thanks," she said quietly. I listened for the door to open and when it didn't I wanted to ask her why.

She didn't give me the chance, "Did you just get back?"

"Yeah, like five minutes ago."

Another spot of silence, which was finally broken by a door being opened. But not the bathroom door that lead into the nice little hallway, which was decorated with framed James Bond movie posters. No, the shower door opened, which had been the only barricade in between Cassandra and my bare derriere.

"Whuh---?" I started to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, don't even start," she said before wetting her hair. Keeping her back to me, she looked over her shoulder at me, "Don't just stand there. Least you could do is wash my back."

After oxygen returned to my lungs, I whispered, "Oh, boy."

V

I thought that if I closed my eyes harder and held the pillow tighter over my face that the alarm clock would go away. As it continued to buzz mere inches from my ear, I finally reached out from under the sheets and smacked it until I found the snooze button.

Silence.

After taking the pillow off of my head, I looked to my right to see that it was nearly noon. I then looked to my left to see Tim, surprisingly still sleeping.

"How could you sleep through that?" I asked.

He didn't even flinch.

I smacked him with the pillow in my hand and repeated my question after he sat upright, searching the room for his attacker. When his eyes settled down on me, he smirked, "Oh. Must have been tired."

With a smile, I said, "I would hope so," before sitting up as well. After stretching my arms and yawning, I said, "I'm starving."

He ran a hand through his hair, causing the short hairs to stick up on end, "Well… I don't have food per se… I think there's some cereal… No milk though."

"We'll have to order out then. Pizza?" I suggested.

Tim shrugged, "Sounds good to me."

I slipped out of bed and walked over to his closet, not surprised to hear his breathing catch. After all, it wasn't like I brought pajamas… I asked him what he wanted on his pizza as I pulled a long-sleeved GSU shirt off of a hanger. When he didn't reply, I looked over just in time to see him jerk his head away from me, "Oh, uh whatever. Surprise me." After donning the shirt and heading towards the living room, I spotted him getting out of bed from the corner of my eye, deftly covering himself with a pillow. I thought it was somewhat cute that even at his age that he was anxious about nudity.

"I'm just going to, uh, clean up a bit," he called from the bathroom, "The number for the pizzeria is on that bulletin board thing in the kitchen."

And it was. I called Joe & Joe's and put in an order for a large cheese pizza and a dozen garlic rolls. After giving them the address, I hung up and searched the cupboards for a glass. In the third cabinet, I found one and then opened the fridge. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't have anything. A nearly empty carton of orange juice, two English muffins, a bag of plums and a large two-gallon jug of water graced the empty shelves. I opted for the water and filled the glass twice before emptying it and putting it the sink.

Tim was still in the bathroom when I returned to the bedroom. I paused at the full-length mirror that was on the wall next to his dresser and looked at myself from head to toe. The shirt was huge on me, the hem nearly to my knees but I had seen it on Tim and it just passed his hips. When I left later that day I would have to steal some shorts but for the time being the shirt worked just fine.

Coming to his apartment the night before had been totally random. I had hardly seen him on patrols that night as he and Nightwing had worked together. Those nights I tended to let them be together while touring on my own. Before setting out for the night, I had been eating dinner in the kitchen, waiting for Barbara and Dick to back from their day out. They hadn't given a set time, but I figured they would have been back by at least four.

When they passed through the front door at a quarter of six, I stood in the small foyer, arms crossed and tapping my foot. Dick had immediately burst into laughter and Barbara soon joined him.

"Where have you been?" I had asked.

"Well, uh," Dick began before shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well?" I asked, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as well.

It was then that Dick nudged Barbara's shoulder with his hip, "You tell her."

"No, you. It was your idea."

He paused, shrugged and finally looked over at me, "Uh, we're getting married."

They had brought dinner home with them, Chinese take out from the place on Bradley. As much as I wanted to stay and partake in seafood egg rolls, I had figured they needed the time to themselves. After all, it had taken how many years for him to finally ask her? It was the least I could do to give them some time together.

After patrols had been wrapped in the north where I had been working, I had wondered if Tim… Batman had called it a night. When I called in to check with Oracle, she had said he had and that Nightwing was also calling it a night. I told her I would stay at Tim's since I was closer to his apartment than to the Clocktower. She had replied, "Thanks, Cass. Behave yourself."

"I will…" I paused as the connection closed, "… for a little while," I finished.

Breaking in was hardly a challenge and finding him had been even easier. Only light on in the whole place was coming out from under the bathroom door. I had caught him off guard but he had sounded more pleased than shocked. When I slipped into the shower with him just as I had last November, I was split in half as to what his reaction would be. Last time it had been amusing to watch him squirm and make valiant attempts at decency.

This time was a little different. A lot different.

He had been nervous at first, washing the skin of back and arms, the loofah quivering slightly in his hand. I ignored it and went about washing my hair and face, hoping me calmness would catch on. Although it took a while, it did. He even kept his cool as I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. After I wrapped a towel around my form, Tim reached for one on the rack to cover himself but I snatched it first and rat-tailed him in the butt. I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face but soon cried out when he charged after me while wrapping a towel around his waist. Having toured the apartment before, navigating in his bedroom in the dark had been easy.

He finally tackled me and pinned me to the bed, retaliating with tickling pokes and pinches on my sides and my neck. When he moved off of me and laid beside me on the bedspread, I reached out with my arm and draped it over his neck. A moment later, his hand found its way to my side, caressing instead of tickling.

I asked him if Dick had told him about the engagement and after he nodded I added, "Tonight's just full of surprises."

He smirked softly, "That it is."

After I bit my lip and moved closer to him and asked, "Think there's room for a few more?"

He would have probably agreed with me verbally but he was too busy putting his lips on mine. And I would have acknowledged his agreement but I was too busy scoring his torso with my hands, draping my leg over his thigh…

A buzzer interrupted my thoughts and I glanced towards the hall, thinking that it had been awfully fast for a delivery. I then called out towards the bathroom door, "Where's your wallet?"

He paused before answering, "Dresser. Somewhere. Should have a twenty in it."

After searching through the half-folded clothes, empty water bottles and spare scraps of paper, I found his black leather wallet, fished out twenty-five dollars and then made my way to the door. I passed by a pair of running shorts that were on the end table next to the bedroom doorway and decided it was just some delivery guy and it didn't really matter if he saw my legs.

The buzzer sounded again just as I reached the door. As I unlocked it, I said, "Just a minute." After pulling back the dead bolt, I opened the door and asked, "How much was it?"

My eyes widened when I looked up to see Bruce holding a potted ficus bonsai plant, "I think it was sixty-five dollars. I think the pot came with it."

Selina, who stood to his left, nodded and looked like she was about to break into uncontrollable laughter.

Definitely should have opted for the shorts.

I watched as Bruce eyed my lack of clothing and then peered inside to Tim's foyer, "I wanted to catch Tim before this afternoon … Did we come at a bad time?"

I shook my head and stepped back so they could enter the foyer. Before I could explain, or even close my gaping mouth, Tim emerged from the hall, brushing his teeth with an electric brush, dressed in khaki shorts and a blue-striped white button up shirt that was untucked and unbuttoned. As he turned towards us and looked up he asked, "Did you find my wall-whoa!"

I kept glancing from our visitors back to Tim and then back to them. Selina finally interrupted the awkwardness, "We brought you a ficus… It was a belated housewarming gift... But it looks like you've already warmed up the house pretty well yourselves."

"Listen, Bruce I can explain…" Tim began.

Bruce shook his head, "No need to. We should have… called ahead," I watched as he shot a nervous glance to his wife before stepping forward, offering the plant to Tim, "Anyway, the place looks… looks great."

"… Thanks," he said softly, taking the ficus.

He did a quick look around the cluttered living room and then glanced at his watch, "Well, we figured we drop by… Have lunch reservations for twelve-thirty so we should be going."

Tim and I watched dumbstruck as Bruce and Selina left as quickly as they had come. We both walked to the door and peered out in the hallway just in time to witness two things.

First, the to see the pizza boy sauntering up the hallway carrying out lunch.

Second, to see Selina wrap an arm around Bruce's waist as she said, "Just think dear... One day, we'll be visiting Mattie at college... and if I happen across a similar scene… Think of this as like a warm-up for that."

V

Despite the fact that we had lived next door to each other for over twenty years, I still felt uneasy about inviting him over for coffee and to talk. I had called over there a little after four on the second Friday of September, knowing either his wife or butler would just be getting home.

After three rings, I was surprised to hear Bruce's voice answer, "Yes?"

"Bruce, it's Jack Drake."

"Oh, hello. Can you wait for just a second?"

"Sure thing," I replied, forcing my breaths to be as even as possible.

I listened as his muffled voice said, "Mattie, why don't you go upstairs and change, then I'll head over to the barn when Mom gets home," then back to me, "Sorry, just walked through the door."

"If you want I can call back later---."

"Oh, no it's fine. So, what's on your mind?"

Oh, Bruce if you only knew… "I was wondering if I could have coffee some time, sit down and… talk over a few things."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and in the silence I could hear the soft British voice of Alfred Pennyworth. Then Bruce replied, "I'm free now until five if you are."

So much for being to plan out your words, Jack, I thought to myself. "Sounds great, if you like I can come over there or…"

"Actually, we probably should meet at your place." I understood the underlying message of him wanting to keep things away from his daughter. I had been the same way with Tim when his mother…

"Sounds great. I'll see you in a bit."

"All right," he said briskly before hanging up.

I hung up as well and dashed to the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of Columbian roast. That morning, Dana had made a fresh loaf of banana bread and I went about carving out a few slices, all the while trying to compose my thoughts.

That Tuesday, Tim had come up to Bristol for Bruce's daughter's school dinner and had then dropped in afterwards to speak with me. It had started out fine, him telling me about his course load for the fall and a few jobs he was looking into as well as an internship offer he had received. Then I started on the new apartment, life in general and his relationship with Cassandra. As the hour grew late, I asked if he had to get going to his patrols or whatever and a wince had come over his face.

"What is it, Tim? Are you no longer… doing that anymore?"

He sighed before looking into my eyes, "No. Actually, I got a promotion."

Three days later and I still could not process the fact that my son was now the guardian of Gotham. The man behind the mask and the myths and front-page stories. Having kept tabs of Batman's activities over the years, I knew the inherent danger associated with the role and was worried for the life of my son.

Hopefully, his mentor would be able to put that concern to rest.

When Tim had revealed his secret life to me, it hadn't taken much more to figure out just why he was always over at Wayne Manor and why Bruce Wayne had such long nights. I never told Tim but I was sure that he knew I wasn't in the dark any longer. What I had wondered was whether or not he ever told Bruce that he revealed his being Robin to me. And that I knew who Bruce really was. Then again, he was the world's greatest detective…

It had been an incredible journey, trying to accept the fact that Tim had been involved in such dangerous and yet prominent position. As Robin, it had been easier for me to handle as he was a protégé of a number of others. But the tables had finally turned…

The doorbell sounded softly and I walked briskly to the front door. Even though I knew who was on the other side, I peered through the spy hole and looked over Bruce's form. Older than I was and he was in near perfect physical condition. As I opened the door, my mind flashed back to over a decade earlier, when I was still bed ridden and respirator dependent. Memories of being kidnapped alongside my physician, Shondra Kinsolving. Of Bruce, wheelchair bound but doing his damnedest to save us, there in Bristol and across the globe…

"Hello, Jack."

"Bruce, come in," I stepped back and watched him walk into the room. Being up close to him made me wonder what it had been like for Tim to face-off with him as a teenager. To go up against a man his size and with such strong presence…

I lead the way to the dining room and poured coffee for both of us. As I added cream and sugar, Bruce took his cup and sipped the black hot liquid. After both of us had half-drained our mugs, I cleared my throat, "I don't know how to say this… But… I know I have to. I can't get the thoughts out of my head."

"What?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

I drew a deep breath, "I know Tim was successful as Robin. I know he's a quick learner and that he's dedicated to his work. And I know that his loyalty to you is infallible but… I don't know anything about what you do and how you work things…" I stood and toured the room on foot, "I need you to know that… I'm not mad at you for hiding everything from me. I guess on some level I always thought I was but deep down… I'm envious."

"Jack, please..."

I looked over at him, to see an unfamiliar face. It wasn't the lighthearted face of Bruce Wayne whom I had seen at New Year's masquerades and spring banquets. His jaw was set tightly and his brow was furled slightly. The face of the real man who lived next door.

"No, I am. I know Tim's life was harder than most and that I wasn't the best father or role model for him. But, him becoming Robin, becoming one of your… It was the greatest thing that ever happened to him. He worshipped you… I still remember the scrapbooks he kept of all the Batman articles. If he watched the news and you came on it he would search the den for a tape to record the footage. I know I never could have inspired him like that."

"Jack, don't do this to yourself."

"It's all right, Bruce. I've accepted it. He says he doesn't see you as a father like the... others do. But I know he looks up to you. He always has… But what I want to know is if you have the same appreciation for him?"

"What?" he asked after he stood to approach me.

I waited until he paused before continuing, "He told me Tuesday night. After dinner, he came over here and told me that he had been given the cowl. That he was now Batman. That you had stepped down and asked him to carry on the mantle."

He nodded slowly.

"So what I want to know is if you think he is actually fit for the job or if you had no other choice and are risking my son's life."

"The risk has always been there for him, Jack," he spoke softly, but deeply, "For all of us. I would never intentionally put him or anyone else in harm's way. He's trained for the work and he's excelled beyond what even he thought possible."

"But why him? Why not Richard?"

Bruce sighed, "Neither Dick nor Tim ever planned on being Batman just as I had never planned on not being Batman. And although Dick had stepped in for me before, it had never been a final solution, only temporary. I've made errors of judgment in the past as to who would be worthy of taking my place…" he looked up and locked his icy eyes with mine, "But with Timothy, you have my word, my life, that it is not a mistake. I wouldn't have any other person behind the mask."

I had no response for him.

I could hardly breathe let alone respond.

In all my years, I had never heard such powerful words nor had I seen such devotion in someone's eyes.

Such pride.

Such love.

V

Despite the fact that I was buried beneath the down comforter, I felt a sudden wave of cold wash over me. Partially asleep, I rolled over in bed and looked at the alarm clock: 3:41 am.

"Cripes," I moaned before reaching over to Bruce in hopes that he could warm me back up. As my hand searched, however, all it found was a cool, empty patch of bed. I sat up slowly, pushing back my skewed hair, "Bruce?" After rubbing my eyes, I finally located the source of cool air. I slipped out of bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around my bare form and walked towards the open terrace doors.

Bruce stood, forearms resting on the iron railing, looking out at the night sky. As I approached him, he turned his head slightly towards me before returning his gaze to the stars. He had donned a pair of flannel pants since the last time I had fallen asleep and on the small table that we rarely used for breakfast, I noticed a cup of steaming liquid. I walked over and took a sip, my eyebrows rising on their own accord at the spicy taste of apple cider.

"Did I wake you?" he asked softly, his gaze constant.

I shook my head, "No but the draft sure did." I reached out and caressed his biceps, shocked at how cool his skin was, "How long have you been out here?"

He shrugged, "A while."

"Let's start over," I suggested as I snuck under his arm and stood in front of him, gently leaning into his torso, "When did I fall asleep?"

"Little after two."

"And when did you come out here?"

"Little after little after two."

I nodded, "Ah. And it is now a lot after three." When he didn't respond, I shivered slightly and said, "Brr."

As expected, he instinctively wrapped his arms around me and slowly rubbed them up and down to generate a bit of warmth. I thanked him quietly and proceeded to ask him, "So, is there a reason why you're standing out on the terrace on a cool September night instead of sleeping in bed and keeping me warm?"

"I was thinking about Tim."

Not totally unexpected, "What about Tim?"

"That apartment, it's not secure enough for… It could compromise him."

"Your solution better not include him moving in here."

"No," he paused, "The satellite cave, it's located adjacent to a townhouse that I own under a dummy name. I was thinking it would be a better location for him--- what?"

I had turned to face him, my mouth open and my brows arched, "Why didn't you think of this earlier?"

"Well, first of all, he had already selected an apartment when I found out he was moving to Bryanttown. And… the townhouse needs to be renovated. And he should want to move there before I take any steps to improve it. Maybe he doesn't want to be right next to the satellite, maybe he likes his apartment… You're still staring at me."

"That's because you're getting whiny in your old age. And soft. Since when do you care about how other people 'feel'?"

"It's always been relevant how people feel about situations."

I snickered to myself, "It's just that it wasn't relevant enough for you to be bothered."

Bruce looked down at me, feigning hurt, "You were relevant enough to bother me."

"Well, darling, I hate to tell you, but there are other people out there besides me. But can I make a suggestion?"

"I suppose," he said softly.

"Can we discuss this matter at a later time. Perhaps after a few hours of sleep. And breakfast. And somewhere warmer."

"Suggestion noted," he smirked briefly before leaning over and slipping an arm under my legs and the other behind my shoulder blades. After he passed through the glass door, he shut it with his bare foot and then crossed the room back to our bed. When he set me down, I untangled myself from the covers and spread them back across the bed.

I had expected Bruce to join me but when I spotted him walking towards the door, I asked, "Now where are venturing off to?"

"Check on Mattie, quick. I'll be right back."

There was no point in arguing with him to let her be, so I didn't even make the attempt. Instead I took one of his pillows, pressed it into the two I had already claimed and settled back down. A few hours of sleep…

I hadn't realized that I had drifted off until Bruce slipped into bed next to me and his icy foot touched my leg. I jumped suddenly and he looked over at me apologetically. The new routine of life had left him restless at night. He would tuck Mattie in after her bath a little after eight, then head down to the Cave to do whatever he could to help out, albeit from Bristol instead of the roof of the Bartlett Apartment building. And just around two in the morning, of which would have been an "early night" for the Batman, he would come upstairs, check on his daughter and climb into bed. And pretend to sleep.

At first it had been hard for him to fall asleep, and if he did it was only for brief moments. On a few nights I had actually forced myself to stay awake after he had come upstairs and three out of the four nights he hadn't slept at all. When I had called him on it, he had been fairly nonchalant about it, which had been odd because I had expected him to at least growl or frown. I asked him about it, he told me he needed time to adjust. He needed to recalibrate his system, as if he were some sort of machine. He needed to start over…

Once he was comfortable, I inched closer to him and rested my head on his chest, letting my arm snake across his abdomen. As I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders, I looked up at him, "Comfy?"

He sighed, "Very."

I let a few minutes of silence pass as I listened to his heartbeat and to the air that passed into his lungs. In less than a month, he would be hooked up to a number of vital recording devices as he went under the knife for his knee replacements. We had been to Dr. Rodgers twice in the last week alone to go over pre- and post operative care as well as therapy routines that would be implemented after the surgery. I hadn't realized how invasive the practice was until that first meeting where Dr. Rodgers had described, in the least gory details possible, how they were going to be removing the deteriorated cartilage and bone and cement into place artificial protective plates on his femur, tibia and patella.

The benefits of correcting the osteoarthritis were supposed to outweigh the nature of the surgery. But damn…. Still seemed like torture to me.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I had to sit through Bruce and the doctor talking about what things could go wrong. Infection, blood clots, nerve damage, dislocation or fracture of the patella, and instability of the knee joint. I had to leave the room when they moved on to the risks of the actual surgery, which moved from slight reactions to the anesthesia to death from vascular exsanguination…

Since the date was coming up, we had decided to tell Mattie about it so that I could prepare her for all of the changes. She was a well-versed and socialized girl, but seeing her father in leg braces and even the walker he would use would be a bit much. Just talking about it, even leaving out all of the terrors I had to sit through, had left Mattie on the verge of tears.

I must have fallen asleep fairly soundly, because the last thing I remembered seeing was Bruce's chest hair and when I opened my eyes again, the room was bright with sunshine and I was staring directly into Mattie's blue eyes as she sat on my stomach.

"Morning, Mom," she whispered.

My head wasn't awake enough to respond verbally but I managed a smile for her. At that, she leaned forward, kissed my cheek and then looked towards Bruce. I glanced over at well when she asked, "Can I wake him?"

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched upwards slightly, a dead giveaway that he wasn't sleeping.

"Let's get him."

And we did.

V

And now the thank you section:

Chris (for inspiration and motivation/tasering… and a whole lot of laughing)

Curtis (for showing me what it means to be a true hero… RIP 1980-2000)

Dani (my very understanding and forgiving roommate)

David Simon (for being an incredibly brave author down there in Bawlmer)

Dave Matthews Band (uh… for, um… being background music for the last six years)

Dr. J. Ross (for the medical info… maybe after Bruce gets his knees done, I will too)

Netty (for being the best model for Mattie… and the cutest little cousin ever)

And most importantly the readers!

Stay tuned this summer for the bridge story "What Lies Ahead" which will be followed by the next saga in the Series of Three… "Now And Then"

Ta ta,

DC


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